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Edwin Bcofk'J 




fPromJif-'Book of 



KIM LESfft 



* 



Edited b$ 



William Winter. 



The Prompt- Book 

Edited by 

William Winter. 



In uniform volumes : 



Hamlet. King Lear. 

Richard II. Richard III 



Richelieu. 

&c. &c. 

As presented by 

Edwin Booth 



Lee & Shepard, 41 Franklin St., Boston, Mass. 
Charles T. Dillingham, 678 Broadway, New- York. 



The Prompt-Book. 

Edited by William Winter. 

Shakespeare 's Tragedy 

Of 

T^Kzng Lear- 

As Presented by 

Edwin Booth. 

" Oitr present business is general woe."" 

" The poor, distressed Lear is V the town." 

"A father, and a gracious, aged man." 

11 As full of grief as age ; wretched in both" 



"Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, 
And thy dear judgment out." 



I am bound 

Upon a wheel of fire that mine own tears 

Do scald like molten lead." 



" Break, heart, I prithee break." y^Z 

/ 

V 

New-York: \!^ 

Printed, for William Winter, by 
Francis Hart & Company, 6j and 6j Murray Street. 

1878. 



Cm^v^ 



Tf\ 2-2 I f 
Jt.3u 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, 

By William Winter, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



Press of 
Francis Hart & Co. 



preface* 



' § ^HE propriety of an effort to aid in restoring Shakes- 
-*■ peare's "King Lear'''' to practical use upon the stage is 
not likely to be questioned. Persons who have thoughtfully 
studied the subject must, indeed, marvel that such an effort, 
long ago begun, was not long ago crowned with bounteous 
public acceptance. The distortion of Shakespeare's colossal 
tragedy, blandly pe7petrated by Nahum Tate nearly two 
ce?ituries ago, a?id, with some modifications, current in the 
theatre ever since, instantly discloses itself, upon a compariso?i 
of it with the original, as e?nasculate, squalid and 'commonplace 
— in contrast with the stalwart fibre, massive proportiojis, 
and stupendous altitude of Shakespeare's ow?i work. Tate's 
versio?i was published, in quarto, in 1681, — seventy -five years 
after the first performance of " King Lear," and i7i those 
frivolous days of British literature when Shakespeare's 
genius was in eclipse. The dedication of it, to u Tho. Boteler, 
Esq." contains these words : " L found that the new -mo del- 
ling of this story ivould force me sometimes on the difficult 
task of making the chief est persons speak somethifig like their 
character, or matter whereof I had no ground in my author. 
* * * L found the whole to answer your account of it, a 
heap of jewels unstrung and unpolished, yet so dazzling in 
their disorder that I soon perceived I had seized a treasure." 



The complacent Tate then felicitates himself that he has "had 
the good fortune to light on o?ie expedie?it to rectify what was 
iv anting i?i the regularity and probability of the tale" — by 
which he meatis the omission of the Fool / It was easy for 
him, after that, to fabricate an under-plot respecting the loves 
of Edgar and Cordelia, atid to save Cordelia and Lear alive 
at the end of the play, with a rainbow prospect of happiness 
and comfort. Nothing respecti?ig this subject could be more 
remarkable than the mental attitude thus revealed ; except 
it be the after-glow of prosperity which has so long attended 
this petty and finical display of a creatioii entirely gigantic. 
The best critical judgment long since protested against it. 
"King Lear,' 1 said Addison [Spectator, Number 40], "is an 
ad?nirable tragedy, as Shakespeare wrote it y but as it is 
re-formed, according to the chimerical notio?is of poetical jus- 
tice, it has lost half its beauty." "Tate put his hook in 
the nostrils of this leviathan," said Charles Lamb, "for 
Ga?'rick and his followers, the showmen of the sce?ie, to 
draw the mighty beast about more easily." Steevens and 
JoJuison alone, of all the old critics, were content with what 
Charles Knight, with felicitous contempt, denominates the 
Tateficatio?i of Shakespeare. All the same, the piece, thus 
garbled, kept its place. Tate was acted by Gan'ick, the 
great Lear of the last century, and Tate was acted by 
Forrest, the great Lear of the generation that has just e?ided. 
Several improvements, it should be said, have, from time to 
time, been grafted upon this basis. George Colman made an 
alteration of Tate's alteration, which was acted a few times, 
at Covent Garden, Londo?i, and was published in 1768 ; 
and J0J171 Philip Ke7nble made a?iother, which was also 
acted at Cove7it Garden, and which was published in 1808. 
The latter, in one form or a?iother, has served the art needs 



of most of Kemble's successors. Dra??iatic custom of late 
years has exhibited a tendency towards the restoratio?i of 
Shakespeare. Macready and Charles Kean acted Shakes- 
peare's Lear, and more recently, Shakespeare f s Lear has been 
acted by Barrett and McCullough. Macready* s opinion of 
Tate^s piece was expressed in the vigourous statement that it 
is a " miserable debilitation and disfigure me ?it of Shakes- 
peare's subli?ne tragedy." The present version, — which 
follows the plan a?id contains the stage directions of 
Edwin Booth, — if not literally the original, is a faithful 
conde?isation of it. Omissions a?id transpositions will be 
observed ; but, to re-arrange, for a stage that is furnished 
with abundant scenes, a play which was written for a stage 
that had no sce?ies at all, — ?iot to urge the expedie?it due of 
a public taste which craves directness, and is i?itolerant of 
even the semblance of prolixity, — is surely not to use it with 
unwarrantable freedo??i. The text of this versio?i is entirely 
Shakespeare ; the Fool occupies his rightful place i?i the 
action, — to which he supplies a most strange, wistful 
ele?7ient of lamentable mirth ; and the story . is unmarred 
by change. " King Lear " was first acted, Dece?nber 26th, 
1606, at Whitehall, in Lo?idon. The d7'amatic company of 
the Globe Theatre, Southwark, prese?ited it, a?id Ki?ig 
James L was its predominant auditor. There can never 
come a time whe?i it will cease to irradiate the imagination 
a?id melt the heart of the ivorld. 

W. W. 

New- York, March 25th, 1878. 




1 ' Once again the fierce dispute 
Betwixt hell torment and impassioned clay 
Must I burn through." — Keats. 



' ' The finest of Shakespeare s imaginary characters are essentially typical. 
While they embody truths the most subtle, delicate and refining in the life 
and organization of men, those truths are so assorted as to combine with the 
elements which humanity has ?nost in common." — BULWER. 



' 'But who forgets that white, discrowned head, 
Those bursts of reason s half-extinguished glare, 
Those tears upon Cordelia s bosom shed, 
In doubt more touching than despair ! " — Campbell. 



"My life is spent with grief, and my years with sighing. * * / am 
forgotten as a dead man out of mind. I am like a broken vessel. * * * 
Horror hath overwhelmed me. * * * * I wander far off, and remain 
in the wilderness. — The Psalms of David. 



"Crowned with wild flowers aiid with heather, 
Like weak, despised old Lear — 

A king! a king!" — Longfellow. 



"Let the doubly pointed wreath of his fire be hurled at me, and ether be 
torn piecemeal by thunder and spasm of savage blasts ; and let the wind- 
rock earth from her base, roots and all, and, with stormy surge, mingle in 
rough tide the billow of the deep and the paths of the stars, and fling my 
body into black Tartarus! " — AESCHYLUS. 

" Grief and care 
Stalked forth upon the theatre of his heart 
In many a gloomy and misshapen guise ; 
Till of the glories of his earlier self 
The world, his base and hollow auditory, 
Left but a ghastly phantom." — Motherwell. 



'All free from the knot 

Glide the thread of the skein, 

A?zd rest to the labour, 

And peace to the pain ! "— Bulwer. 



'Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold, 

Than daisies in the mould. 
Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe er you be." — Landor. 



" 'T is the infirmity of his age : yet he hath ever but slenderly known 
himself. 

' ' The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash." 



1 Old fools are babes again, and must be used 
With checks as flatteries." 

"Nature in you stands on the very verge 
Of her confine." 

' The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, 
That it had its head bit off by its young." 



' O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven I 
Keep me in te?nper ; I would not be mad" 



"O, heavens, 
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, 
Make it your cause ; send down and take my part." 



' ' The night comes on, and the bleak winds 
Do sorely ruffle; for ?nany miles about 
There 's scarce a bush. n 



"Since I was ma?i, 
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, 
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
Remember to have heard. 



1 The sea, with such a storm as his bare head, 

In hell-black night endured, would have buoyed up 

And quenched the stellar fires . 



"I am a very foolish, fond old man, 
Fourscore and upward; not an hour more nor less 
And, to deal plainly, 
I fear I am not in my perfect mind." 



"Come, let 's away to prison: 
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage : 
When thou dost ask me blessing, I '11 kneel down 
And ask of thee forgiveness : so well live, 
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 
At gilded butterflies. m 

' 'Men must endure 
Their going hence, even as their coming hither. 
Ripeness is all. 



/ 



Lear, King of Britain. 

King of France. 

Duke of Burgundy. 

Duke of Cornwall. 

Duke of Albany. 

Earl of Kent. 

Earl of Gloster. 

Edgar, legitimate son to Gloster. 

Edmund, illegitimate son to Gloster. 

Curan. 

Old Man. 

Physician. 

Fool. 

Oswald, steward to GoneriL 

Herald. 

Goneril. 1 
I 
Regan. \ Daughters to King Lear. 

Cordelia. J 

Knights, attending on King Lear ; Lords, Officers, 
Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants. 



Scene. — Ancient Britain j the southern part of the country, 
ranging through the counties from Somerset to Kent. 

Period. — A?mo Mundi, jioj ; or about goo years B. C. 

Time of Action. — About six weeks. — See Appendix. 



KING LEAR 



A Room of state in King Lear's 

Scene jFtrst >] PalAce. Throne c. Kent l., Glos- 

ter c. and Edmund r. c, discovered. 

Kent. [l. 

I thought the king had more affected the Duke of 
Albany than Cornwall. 

Glos. [c. 

It did always seem so to us : but now, in the division of 
the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values 
most; for qualities are so weighed that curiosity in 
neither can make choice of either's moiety. 

Ke?it. 
Is not this your son, my lord ? 

Glos. 

His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so 
often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed 
to it. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund? 

Edm. [r. 

No, my lord. 

Glos. 

My lord of Kent : remember him hereafter as my 
honourable friend. 



KING LEAR. IO 

Edm. [To Kent 

My services to your lordship. 

Kent 

I must love you, and sue to know you better. 

Edm. 
Sir, I shall study deserving. 

Glos. 

He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. 

[Music ; A March. 
The king is coming. 

[Enter Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Goneril, Regan, 
Cordelia, and attendants. 

Lear. 
Gloster, attend the lords of France and Burgundy. 

Glos. 
I shall, my liege. 

[Exeunt Gloster and Edmund r. u. e. 

Lear. 

Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. 

Give me the map there. — Know that we have divided, 

In three, our kingdom : and 't is our fast intent 

To shake all cares and business from our age, 

Conferring them on younger strengths, while we 

Unburdened crawl toward death. — Our son of Cornwall, 

And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 

We have this hour a constant will to publish 

Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife 

May be prevented now. The princes, France and 

Burgundy, 
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, 
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, 
And here are to be answered. — Tell me my daughters,— 
Since now we will divest us, both of rule, 
Interest of territory, cares of state, — 



KING LEAR. II 

Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most ? 
That we our largest bounty may extend 
Where nature doth with merit challenge. — Goneril, 
Our eldest-born, speak first. 

Gon. [Rises r. 

Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter, 

Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty ; 

Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare ; 

No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour : 

As much as child e'er loved, or father found. 

A. love that makes breath poor, and speech unable ; 

Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 

Cord. [Aside c. 

What shall Cordelia speak ? Love and be silent. 

Lear. [Pointing to map. 

Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, 
With shadowy forests, and with champaigns riched, 
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, 
We make thee lady : to thine and Albany's issues, 
Be this perpetual. — What says our second daughter — 
Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall ? Speak. 

Regan. [l, 

I am made of that self metal as my sister, 

And prize me at her worth. In my true heart 

I find she names my very deed of love ; 

Only she comes too short, — that I profess 

Myself an enemy to all other joys, 

Which the most precious square of sense possesses, 

And find, I am alone felicitate — 

In your dear highness' love. 

Cord. [Aside. 

Then poor Cordelia ! 

And yet not so, since, I am sure, my love 's 
More richer than my tongue. 



[All start and look at Cordelia. 
Lear, 
Cord. 



KING LEAR. 12 

Lear. [To Regan. 

To thee and thine, hereditary ever, 

Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom ; 

No less in space, validity, and pleasure, 

Than that conferred on Goneril. — Now, our joy, 

[Cordelia rises and goes r. 
Although the last, not least ; to whose young love 
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy 
Strive to be interessed; what can you say, to draw 
A third more opulent than your sisters ? 
Speak ! 

Cord. 
Nothing, my lord. 

Nothing ? 

Nothing. 

Lear. 

Nothing will come of nothing : speak again. 

Cord. 

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 

My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty 

According to my bond ; nor more, nor less. 

Lear. 

How ? How, Cordelia ? Mend your speech a little, 
Lest you may mar your fortunes. 

Cord. 
Good my lord, 

You have begot me, bred me, loved me : I 
Return those duties back as are right fit, 
Obey you, love you, and most honour you. 
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say 
They love you all ? Haply, when I shall wed, 



KING LEAR. 13 

That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry 
Half my love with him, half my care, and duty. 
Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, 
To love my father all. 

Lear. 
But goes thy heart with this ? 

Cord. 

Ay, my good lord. 

Lear. 

So young and so untender ? 

Cord. 
So young, my lord, and true. 

Lear. 

Truth, then, be thy dower; 

For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, 

The mysteries of Hecate and the night ; 

By all the operation of the orbs, 

From whom we do exist, and cease to be, 

Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 

Propinquity and property of blood, 

And as a stranger to my heart and me 

Hold thee from this forever. The barbarous Scythian, 

Or he that makes his generation messes 

To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 

Be as well neighboured, pitied, and relieved, 

As thou, my sometime daughter. 

Kent. [l. 

Good my liege, 

Lear. 
Peace, Kent! 

Come not between the dragon and his wrath : 
I loved her most, and thought to set my rest 
2 



KING LEAR. 1 4 

On her kind nursery. — Hence and avoid my sight ! 

[To Cordelia. 
So be my grave my peace, as here I give 
Her father's heart from her ! Call France ! 
Who stirs ? Call Burgundy ! 

\Exit a knight. 
Cornwall and Albany, 

With my two daughters' dowers digest this third ; 
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. 
I do invest you jointly with my power, 
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects 
That troop with majesty. — Ourself, by monthly course, 
With reservation of an hundred knights, 
By you to be sustained, shall our abode 
Make with you by due turns. Only, we shall retain 
The name and all the additions to a king. 
The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, 
Beloved sons, be yours ; which to confirm, 
This coronet part between you. 

[Page, with crown, advances. Lear takes the 
crown and holds it above the heads of Goneril, 
Regan, Albany and Cornwall, who kneel in 
front of throne c. 

Kent. 
Royal Lear, 

Whom I have ever honoured as my king, 
Loved as my father, as my master followed, 
As my great patron thought on in my prayers, 



Lear. 
The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. 

Kent. 

Let it fall rather, though the fork invade 

The region of my heart : be Kent unmannerly, 

When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man ? 

Reverse thy doom; 

And in thy best consideration check 

This hideous rashness : answer my life my judgment, 



KING LEAR. I 5 

Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least ; 
Nor are those empty hearted, whose low sounds 
Reverb no hollowness. 

Lear. 

Kent, on thy life, no more ! 

Kent. 

My life I never held but as a pawn 

To wage against thine enemies ; nor fear to lose it, 

Thy safety being the motive. 

Lear. 
Out of my sight ! 

Kent. 

See better, Lear, and let me still remain 
The true blank of thine eye. 

Lear. 

Now, by Apollo ! 

Kent. 
Now, by Apollo, king, 
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. 

Lear. 

O, vassal ! Miscreant ! 

[Laying his hand on his sword. 

Alb. and Corn. [ To Lear. 

Dear sir, forbear ! 

Kent. 
Do: 

Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestow 
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift ; 
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, 
I '11 tell thee, thou dost evil. 



KING LEAR. 1 6 

Lear, 

Hear me, recreant ! 

On thy allegiance hear me. 

[Kent kneels. 
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, — 
Which we durst never yet, — and, with strained pride, 
To come betwixt our sentence and our power, — 
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear, — 
Our potency made good, take thy reward. 
Five days do we allot thee for provision 
To shield thee from diseases of the world, 
And on the sixth to turn thy hated back 
Upon our kingdom : if on the tenth day following 
Thy banished trunk be found in our dominions, 
The moment is thy death. Away ! By Jupiter, 
This shall not be revoked ! 

[Kent rises ; Goneril, Regan, Albany , and Corn- 
wall go to Lear c. 



Kent 

Fare thee well, king ; since thus thou wilt appear, 
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. 

[Crosses R. to Cordelia. 
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, 
That justly thinks, and hast most rightly said. 
And your large speeches may your deeds approve, 

[ To Regan and Goneril. 
That good effects may spring from words of love. 
Thus Kent, O, princes, bids you all adieu ; 

[To all. 
He '11 shape his old course in a country new. 

[Exit Kent L. Re-enter Gloster, with France, 
Burgundy and a hiight R. u. e. Gloster and 
France on the r. of throne. Burgundy comes 
down l. 

Glos. [r. to Lear. 

Here 's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. 



KING LEAR. 1 7 

Lear. 
My lord of Burgundy, 

We first address toward you, who with this king 
Hath rivalled for our daughter : what in the least, 
Will you require in present dower with her, 
Or cease your quest of love ? 

Bur. [l. 

Most royal majesty, 

I crave no more than hath your highness offered, 
Xor will you tender less. 

Lear. 
Right noble Burgundy, 

When she was dear to us, we did hold her so ; 
But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands ; 
Dowered with our curse, and strangered with our oath. 
Take her, or leave her. 

Bur. 
Pardon me, royal sir ; 
Election makes not up on such conditions. 

Lear. 

Then leave her, sir; for by the power that made me, 
I tell you all her wealth : for you, great king, 

[To Fra?ue. 
I would not from your love make such a stray, 
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you 
To avert your liking a more worthier way, 
Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed 
Almost to acknowledge hers. 

France. [r. 

This is most strange : 
Sure her offence 

Must be of such unnatural degree, 
That monsters it; 
Which to believe of her, 
Must be a faith that reason, without miracle, 
Should never plant in me. 



KING LEAR. 1 8 

Cord. [ To Lear. 

I yet beseech your majesty, that you make known 

It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, 

No unchaste action, or dishonoured step, 

That hath deprived me of your grace and favour ; 

But even for want of that for which I am richer, — 

A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue 

That I am glad I have not, though not to have it, 

Hath lost me in your liking. 

Lear. 

Better thou 

Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better. 

France. [r. 

Is it but this ? 

Fairest Cordelia, that thou art most rich, being poor, 

Most choice, forsaken, and most loved, despised, 

Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon. 

Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, 

[To Lear. 
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France ; 
Not all the dukes of wat'rish Burgundy 
Can buy this unprized precious maid of me. 



Lear. 

Thou hast her, France ; let her be thine, for we 

Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see 

That face of hers again ; — therefore, begone 

Without our grace, our love, our benison. 

[March. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, Cornwall, 
Albany, a?id attendants L. Scene closes as they 
go out. France and Cordelia remain, looking 
after Lear. 



king lear. 1 9 

«. a <* ( Stone Hall in Gloster's Castle. 
Scene Secern*, j [FlRST Grooves] 

[Enter Edmund with a letter r. i.e. 

Edm. 

Thou, Nature, art my goddess ; to thy law 

My services are bound. Wherefore should I 

Stand in the plague of custom, and permit 

The curiosity of nations to deprive me, 

For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines 

Lag of a brother ? Why bastard ? wherefore base, 

When my dimensions are as well compact, 

My mind as generous, and my shape as true, 

As honest madam's issue ? 

Well then, 

Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land ; 

Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund, 

As to the legitimate. Fine word, legitimate. 

Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, 

And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 

Shall top the legitimate. I grow, I prosper : — 

Now, gods, stand up for bastards ! 

[Enter Gloster l. i. e. 

Glos. 

Kent banished thus ! and France in choler parted ! 
And the king gone to-night !. Subscribed his power ! 
Confined to exhibition ! All this done 
Upon the gad ! — Edmund, how now! What news ? 

Edm. [Hidi?ig the letter. 

So please your lordship, none. 

Glos. 
What paper were you reading ? 

Edm. 
Nothing, my lord. 



KING LEAR. 20 

Glos. 

No ! What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of it 
into your pocket ? The quality of nothing hath not such 
need to hide itself. 

Edm. 

I beseech you, sir, pardon me; it is a letter from my 
brother, that I have not all o'er-read; and for so much 
as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o'erlooking. 

Glos. 

Give me the letter, sir. 

Edm. 

I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, 
as in part I understand them, are to blame. 

Glos. 

Let *s see, let 's see ! \Gloster takes letter. 

Edm. 

I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but 
as an assay or taste of my virtue. 

Glos. [Reads. 

" This policy and reverence of age make the world bit- 
ter to the best of our times ; keep our fortunes from us, till 
our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle 
and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who 
sways not as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to 
me that of this I may speak more. If our father would 
sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue 
for ever, and live the beloved of your brother, Edgar." 

Humph ! Conspiracy ! " Sleep till I waked him, — 
you should enjoy half his revenue." — My son Edgar ! Had 
he a hand to write this ? A heart and brain to breed it 
in ? — When came this to you ? Who brought it ? 

Edm. 

It was not brought me, my lord; there 's the cunning 
of it — I found it, thrown in at the casement of my closet. 



KING LEAR. 21 

Glos. 
You know the character to be your brother's ? 

Edm. 

It is his hand, my lord ; but I hope his heart is not in 
the contents. 

Glos. 

O, villain ! villain ! abhorred villain ! unnatural, de- 
tested, brutish villain! worse than brutish! — Go, sirrah, 
seek him ; I '11 apprehend him — abominable villain ! 

Edm. 

I dare pawn down my life for him, that he hath writ 
this to feel my affection to your honour, and to no other 
pretence of danger. 

Glos. 
Think you so ? 

Edm. 

If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where 
you shall hear us confer, this very evening. 

Glos. 
He cannot be such a monster. 

Edm. 
Nor is not, sure. 

Glos. 

To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him. 
These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good 
to us. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide : in 
cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; and the bond 
cracked between son f crosses r.] and father. Find out 
this villain, Edmund ; it shall lose thee nothing. 

[Exit Gloster r. i. e. 

3 



KINCx LEAR. 22 

Edm. 

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when 
we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own 
behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the 
moon, and the stars; as if we were villains by necessity; 
fools, by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and 
treachers, by spherical predominance. An admirable 
evasion of virtuous man, to lay his devilish disposition to 
the charge of a star. Tut ! I should have been that I 
am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on 

my birth. Edgar 

[Enter Edgar l. i.e. 
Edm. 

When saw you my father last ? 

Edgar. 
The night gone by. 

Edm. 
Spake you with him ? 

Edgar. 

Ay, two hours together. 

Ed?? i. 

Parted you in good terms ? Found you no displeasure 
in him, by word or countenance ? 

Edgar. 
None at all. 

Ed? n. 

Bethink yourself, wherein you may have offended him : 
and at my entreaty forbear his presence, till some little 
time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at 
this instant so rageth in him, that with the mischief of 
your person it would scarcely allay. 

Edgar. 
Some villain hath done me wrong. 



KING LEAR. 23 

Edm. 

That 's my fear. I pray you, have a continent forbear- 
ance, till the speed of his rage goes slower; pray you go; 
if you do stir abroad, go armed. 

Edgar. 
Armed, brother ? 

Edjn. 

Brother, I advise you to the best ; I am no honest man, 
if there be any good meaning towards you; pray you, 

away. 

Edgar. 

Shall I hear from you anon ? 

Edm, 

I do serve you in this business. 

[Exit Edgar l. i. e. 
A credulous father, and a brother noble, 
Whose nature is so far from doing harms 
That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty 
My practices ride easy! I see the business. — 
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit ; 
All with me 's meet that I can fashion fit. 

[Exit r. 1. E. 



§2>ttnz Cfnrth 



f Before the Duke of Albany's Castle. 
J Arch c. Entrance to Castle facing 
} Audience r. Stone wall l. Rude 
I STONE seat c. 



[Enter Goneril, two ladies, Oswald, and two lords c. 

Go? 1. 

Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his 
fool? 



KING LEAR. 24 

Osw. 
Ay, madam. 

Gon. 

By day and night he wrongs me ; every hour 

He flashes into one gross crime or other, 

That sets us all at odds : I '11 not endure it. 

His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us 

On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, 

I will not speak with him : say, I am sick ; 

If you come slack of former services, 

You shall do well ; the fault of it I '11 answer. 

[Horns heard within, pp. 

Osw. 

He 's coming, madam, I hear him. 

Gon. 

Put on what weary negligence you please, 

You and your fellows; I 'd have it come to question: 

If he distaste it, let him to my sister, 

Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, 

Not to be over-ruled. 

Remember what I have said. 

Osw. 
Well, madam. 

Gon. 

And let his knights have colder looks among you. 
What grows of it, no matter ; advise your fellows so : 
I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, 
That I may speak; I '11 write straight to my sister, 
To hold my course. 

\Exeu7it Goneril, Oswald, lords, and ladies into 
Castle r. Enter Kent, disguised, c. 

Kent. 

If but as well I other accents borrow, 
That can my speech diffuse, my good intent 
May carry through itself to that full issue 



KING LEAR. 25 

For which I razed my likeness. Now banished Kent, 
If thou canst serve,where thou dost stand condemned, 
So may it come thy master, whom thou lov'st, 
Shall find thee full of labours. 

[Horns within. Enter Lear^ Curan, knights and 
attendants through arch c. 

Lear. 

Let me not stay a jot for dinner : go, get it ready. 

[Exit an attendant r. 3. e. 
How now ! what art thou ? [To Kent. 

Kent. [r. 

A man, sir. 

Lear. 

What dost thou profess ? What wouldst thou with us ? 

Kent. 

I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him 
truly that will put me in trust;' to love him that is honest; 
to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear 
judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no 
fish. 

Lear. 
What art thou ? 

Kent. 

A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king. 

Lear. 

If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is for a king, 
thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou ? 

Kent. 
Service. 

Lear. 

Whom wouldst thou serve ? 

Kent. 
You. 



KING LEAR. 26 

Lear. 
Dost thou know me, fellow ? 

Kent. 

No, sir ; but you have that in your countenance which 
I would fain call master. 

Lear. 
What's that? 

Kent. 
Authority. 

Lear. 

What services canst thou do ? 

Kent. 

I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale 
in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly : that 
which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in ; and the 
best of me is diligence. 

Lear. 
How old art thou ? 

Kent. 

Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing ; nor so 
old to dote on her for anything. I have years on my back 
forty-eight. 

Lear. 

Follow me ; thou shalt serve me : if I like thee no worse 
after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. — Dinner, ho ! 
dinner ! Where 's my knave ? my fool ? Go you, and 
call my fool hither. 

[Exit knight c. Enter Oswald R. singing. 

You, you, sirrah, where 's my daughter? 

Osw. 

So please you, 

[Exit l. 1. E. 



KING LEAR. 27 

Lear. 

What said the fellow ? Call the clodpole back. Where's 

\Exit Curan l. i. e. 
my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep. How, now! 
where's that mongrel? \Enter Curan. 

Curan. 

He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. 

Lear. 

Why came not the slave back to me, when I called 
him? 

Curan. 

Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would 
not. [Exit Ke?tt l. i.e. 

Lear. 
He would not ! 

Curan. 

My lord, I know not what the matter is, but, to my 
judgment, your highness is not entertained with that 
ceremonious affection as you were wont. 



Lear. 

Ha ! sayest thou so ? Thou but rememberest me of 
mine own conception. I have perceived a most faint 
neglect of late ; which I have rather blamed as mine own 
jealous curiosity, than as a very pretence and purpose of 
unkindness. I will look further into 't. — But where's 
my fool ? I have not seen him this two days. 

Curan. 

Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool 
hath much pined away. 






KING LEAR. 28 

Lear. 

No more of that ; I have noted it well. Go you and 
tell my daughter I would speak with her. Go you, call 

[Exit Cur an r. 3. e. 
hither my fool b 

[Exit a knight, arch c. Re-enter Oswald and 
Kent l. i.e. Ke?it places Oswald l. of Lear. 

! you, sir, come you hither. Who am I, sir ? 

Osw. 
My lady's father. 

Lear. 

My lady's father ! my lord's knave ! you dog ! you 
slave ! you cur ! 

Osw. 

1 am none of these, my lord ; I beseech your pardon. 

Lear. 

Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal ? 

[Lear strikes Oswald. 
Osw. 

I '11 not be struck, my lord. 

Kent. 

Nor tripped neither, you base foot-ball player. 

[Tripping Oswald, who falls. 

Lear. [ To Kent. 

I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll love 
thee. 

Kent. [To Oswald. 

Come, sir, arise, away ! I '11 teach you differences : 
away, away! if you will measure your lubber's length 
again, tarry ; but away ! go to : have you wisdom ? So ! 
[Oswald, having risen, is pushed off, by Kent, 

R. 3. E. 



KING LEAR. 29 

Lear. 

Now, any friendly knave, I thank thee; there's earnest 
of thy service. 

[Kent down r. : Lear gives him money : enter Fool, 
arch c. 

F00L [Crosses to Kent. 

Let me hire him too : — -Here 's my coxcomb. 

[Offering Kent his cap. 

Lear. 

How now, my pretty knave ! how dost thou ? 

Fool. [To Kent. 

Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. 

Kent. 
Why, boy ? 

Fool. 

Why ? for taking one's part that 's out of favour. Nay, 
an' thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou 'It catch cold 
shortly : there, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has 
banished two on 's daughters, and did the third a blessing 
against his will; if thou follow him thou must needs wear 
my coxcomb. — How now, nuncle ? would I had two cox- 
combs, and two daughters. 

Lear. 
Why, my boy ? 

Fool. 

If I gave them all my living, I 'd keep my coxcombs 
myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters. 

Lear. 
Take heed, sirrah; the whip. 

Fool. 

Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped out, 
when the Lady Brach may lie by the fire and sleep. 
Sirrah, I '11 teach thee a speech. 
4 



KING LEAR. 30 

Lear, 
Do. 

FooL 

Mark it, nuncle : — 

Have more than thou showest, 
Speak less than thou knowest, 
Lend less than thou owest, 
Ride more than thou goest. 
Learn more than thou trowest, 
Set less than thou thro west ; 
And thou shalt have more 
Than two tens to a score. 

Lear, 
This is nothing, fool. 

FooL, 

Then, 'tis like the breath of an unfeed lawyer; you 
gave me nothing for it. Can you make no use of noth- 
ing, nuncle? 

Lear, 

Why, no, boy ; nothing can be made out of nothing. 



FooL [ To Kent, 

Pr'ythee, tell him, so much the rent of his land comes 
to : he will not believe a fool. 



Lear, 
A bitter fool ! 

FooL 

Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter 
fool and a sweet one ? 

Lear, 
No, lad, teach me. 



KING LEAR. 3 1 

Fool. [Sings. 

That lord, that counselled thee 

To give away thy land, 
Come place him here by me ; 

Do thou for him stand : 
The sweet and bitter fool 

Will presently appear; 
The one in motley here, 

The other found out there. 

[Points at Lear. 

Lear. 



Dost thou call me fool, boy 



FooL 

All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou 
wast born with. 

Kent. 

This is not altogether fool,' my lord. 

Fool. 

No, 'faith ; lords and great men will not let me have all 
fool to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg, 
nuncle, and I '11 give thee two crowns. 

[Kent retires up. 
Lear. 

What two crowns shall they be ? 

Fool. 

Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat up 
the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest 
thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away both parts, thou 
borest thine ass on thy back o'er the dirt: thou hadst 
little wit in thy bald crown, when thou gav'st thy golden 
one away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be 
whipped that first finds it so. 



KING LEAR. 32 

[Sings. 
Then they for sudden joy did weep. 

And I for sorrow sung 
That such a king should play bo-peep, 
And go the fools among. 

[Fool goes down to R. corner. 

Lear. 
When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah ? 

Fool. 

I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy 
daughters thy mothers. Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a school- 
master that can teach thy fool to lie. I would fain learn 
to lie. 

Lear. 

An you lie, sirrah, we '11 have you whipped. 

Fool. 

I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are : they '11 
have me whipped for speaking true, thou 'It have me 
whipped for lying; and sometimes I am whipped for hold- 
ing my peace. I had rather be any kind o' a thing than a 
fool ; and yet would not be thee, nuncle ; thou hast pared 
thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing i' the middle. 

[Enter Goneril, three ladies a?id three gentlemen 
from castle r. 3. e. 
Here comes one of the parings. 

Lear. 

How now, daughter ! What makes that frontlet on ? 
Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown. 

Gon. [r. 

Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool, 

But other of your insolent retinue 

Do hourly carp and quarrel ; breaking forth 

In rank, and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, 

I had thought, by making this well known unto you, 



KING LEAR. 33 

To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful, 
By what yourself too late have spoke and done, 
That you protect this course, and put it on, 
By your allowance. 

Fool. [l. 

For you know, nuncle, \Sings. 

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, 
That it had its head bit off by its young. 

Lear. 
Are you our daughter ? 

Gon. 

I would you would make use of your good wisdom, and 
put aside these dispositions which transport you from what 
you rightly are. 

Lear. 

Does any here know me ? Why, this is not Lear :. 
Does Lear walk thus ? speak thus ? Where are his eyes ? 
Who is it that can tell me who I am ? 

Fool. 
Lear 's shadow ! 

Lear. [To Goneril. 

Your name, fair gentlewoman ? 

Gon. 

This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour 

Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you 

To understand my purposes aright ; 

As you are old and reverend, should be wise. 

Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires ; 

Men so disordered, so debauched and bold, 

That this our court, infected with their manners, 

Shows like a riotous inn : 

For instant remedy, be, then, desired 

By her, that else«will take the thing she begs, 



KING LEAR. 34 

A little to disquantity your train ; 
And the remainder, that shall still 'depend, 
To be such men as may besort your age, 
Which know themselves and you. 

Lear. 

Darkness and devils ! 

Saddle my horses ; call my train together. — 

[Exit attendant. 
Degenerate bastard ! I '11 not trouble thee; 
Yet have I left a daughter. 

Gon. 

You strike my people, and your disordered rabble 
Make servants of their betters. 

Lear. 

Woe, that too late repents. — 

[Enter Albany l. i. e.] 
O, sir, are you come ? [ To Albany. 

Is it your will ? Speak, sir ! Prepare my horses. 
Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, 
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, 
Than the sea-monster. 

Alb. 
Pray, sir, be patient. 

Lear. [l. to Goneril. 

Detested kite ! thou liest ! 
My train are men of choice and rarest parts, 
That all particulars of duty know, 
And in the most exact regard support 
The worships of their name. — O, most small fault, 
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show, 
Which, like an engine, wrenched my frame of nature 
From the fixed place, drew from my heart all love, 
And added to the gall. O, Lear, Lear, Lear ! 

[Striking his head. 
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, 
And thy dear judgment out ! 
Go, go, my people ! 



KING LEAR. 35 

Alb. 

Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes this ? 

[Albany crosses to Goneril r. 

Gon. 

Never afflict yourself to know the cause ; 
But let his disposition have that scope 
That dotage gives it. 

Alb. [r. 

What 's the matter, sir ? 

Lear. 

I '11 tell thee ! — Life and death ! I am ashamed 
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus : 

[To Goneril. 
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, 
Should make thee worth them. — Blasts and fogs upon thee ! 
The untented woun dings of a father's curse 
Pierce every sense about thee! — Old, fond eyes, 
Beweep this cause again, I '11 pluck you out ; 
And cast you, with the waters that you lose, 
To temper clay. Ha ! is it come to this ? 
Let it be so ; yet have I left a daughter, 
Who* I am sure, is kind and comfortable ; 
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails 
She '11 flay thy wolfish visage. Thou shalt find 
That I '11 resume the shape which thou dost think 
I have cast off forever. 

Alb. 

My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant 
Of what hath moved you. 

Lear. 
It may be so, my lord : — 

Hear, Nature, hear; dear goddess, hear ! [Kneels. 

Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend 
To make this creature fruitful ! 
Into her womb convey sterility ! 



KING LEAR. 36 

Dry up in her the organs of increase ; 
And from her derogate body never spring 
A babe to honour her ! If she must teem, 
Create her child of spleen ; that it may live, 
And be a thwart disnatured torment to her ! 
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ; 
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks ; 
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits, 
To laughter and contempt ; that she may feel 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
To have a thankless child ! 

[Kent and Fool assist Lear to rise, 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



^ In front of Gloster's Castle. Cut 

&ctnt (First J WooD Front - Castle c. A Wing 
^ Jr j of the Castle, with Private Door, 

I seen l. u. e. 

[Enter Kent r. i. e., and Oswald l. 2. e. 

Osw. 
Good-morrow to thee, friend : art of this house ? 

Kent. 
Ay. 

Osw. 

Where may we set our horses ? 

Kent. 
V the mire. 

Osw. 

Pr'ythee, if thou lovest me, tell me. 

Kent. 

I love thee not 

Osw. 

Why, then, I care not for thee. 

Kent 

If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee 
care for me. 

Osw. 

Why dost thou use me thus ? I know thee not. 
S 



KING LEAR. 38 

Kent 

Fellow, I know thee. 

Osw. 

What dost thou know me for ? 

Kent. 

A knave ; a rascal ; an eater of broken meats ; a base, 
proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, 
filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking 
knave ; a glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue. 

Osw. [l. 

Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on 
one that is neither known of thee, nor knows thee. 

Kent 

What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny that thou 
know'st me ? Is it two days since I tripped up thy heels, 
and beat thee, before the king ? Draw, you rogue ! 

[Kent draws sword and menaces Oswald. 

Osw. 
Away, I have nothing to do with thee. 

Kent 

Draw, you rascal : you come with letters against the 
king, and take vanity the puppet's part, against the royalty 
of her father ; draw, you rogue, or I '11 so carbonade your 
shanks ; — draw, you rascal ! Come your ways ! 

Osw. 
Help, ho! Murder! Help! 

Kent 

Strike, you slave ; stand, rogue, stand ; you neat slave, 
strike. [Beating him. 

Osw. 
Help, ho ! Murder ! Murder ! 

[Exeunt l. Enter Edmund c. 



KING LEAR. 39 



Edrn^ 



The duke be here to-day ? The better ! 

Best! 

This weaves itself perforce into my business. 

My father hath set guard to take my brother ; 

And I have one thing, of a queazy question, 

Which I must act. — Briefness and fortune work ! 

Brother a word; — brother, I say ! 

[Enter Edgar l. u. e. 
My father watches : — O, sir, fly this place ; 
Intelligence is given where you are hid : 
Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall ? 
He's coming hither, and Regan with him : 
Have you nothing said 

Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany ? 
Advise yourself. 

Edgar. 

I am sure on 't, not a word. 

Edm. 

[During this speech, mock co?nbat. 
I hear my father coming, — pardon me : 
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you ; 
Draw; seem to defend yourself: now, 'quit you well. 
Yield : — come before my father : 
Fly brother ! Help ! Help ! So, farewell. 

[Exit Edgar l. i. e. 
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 

[ Wounds his arm. 
Of my more fierce endeavour : I have seen drunkards, 
Do more than this in sport. — Father ! Father ! 
Stop, stop ! No help ? 

[Enter Gloster and two servants with torches, from 
castle c. 

Glos. 

Now, Edmund, where 's the villain ? 



KING LEAR. 40 

Edm. 

Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out 
Mumbling of wicked charms. 

Glos. 
But, where is he ? 

Edm. 
Look, sir, I bleed. 

Glos. 
Where is the villain, Edmund ? 

Edm. 

Fled this way, sir. \Poi?its r. i. e.] When by no means 

he could 

Glos. 

Pursue him. Ho ! — Go after ! 

\Exeunt servants r. i. e., as Edmund directs, 
which is contrary to the way of Edgar's flight. 
By no means, — what ? 

Edm. 

Persuade me to the murder of your lordship. 
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood 
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, 
With his prepared sword he charges home 
My unprovided body, lanced mine arm ; 
But when he saw my best alarmed spirits, 
Bold in the quarrel's right, 
Or whether ghasted by the noise I made, 
Full suddenly he fled. 

Glos. 
Let him fly far ; 

Not in this land shall he remain uncaught, 
And found — dispatch. The noble duke, my master, 
My worthy arch and patron, comes. 
By his authority I will proclaim it. 



KING LEAR. 4 1 

That he, which finds him, shall deserve our thanks, 
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake ; 
He, that conceals him, death. [ Trumpets at distance. 

Hark ! The duke's trumpets. I know not why he comes. 
All ports I '11 bar ; the villain shall not 'scape ; 
The duke must grant me that. And of my land, 
Loyal and natural boy, I '11 work the means 
To make thee capable. 

\Enter Cornwall, Regan, ladies, and attendants, 

L. 2. E. 

Corn. 

How now, my noble friend ! Since I came hither, — 
Which I can call but now, — I have heard strange news. 

Rega?i. [l. 

If it be true, all vengeance comes too short, 
Which can pursue the offender, 
What ! did my father's godson seek your life ? 
He whom my father named ? Your Edgar ? 

Glos. [r. c. 

O, lady, lady ! shame would have it hid ! 

Regan. 

Was he not companion with the riotous knights 
That tend upon my father ? 

Edm. 
Yes, madam, he was of that consort. 

Regan. [To Cornwall. 

No marvel, then, though he were ill-affected; 
'T is they have put him on the old man's death, 
To have the expense and waste of his revenues. 

[To Gloster. 
I have this present morning from my sister 
Been well informed of them ; and with such cautions, 
That if they come to sojourn at my house, 1 11 not be there. 



KING LEAR. 42 

Corn. 

Nor I, assure thee, Regan. — 

Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father 

A child-like office. 

Edm. 
It was my duty, sir. 

Glos. 

He did bewray his practice \ and received 
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. 

Corn. 
Is he pursued ? 

Glos. 
Ay, my good lord. 

Corn. 

If he be taken, he shall nevermore 

Be feared of doing harm ; make your own purpose, 

How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund, 

Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant 

So much commend itself, you shall be ours : 

Natures of such deep trust we shall much need : 

You we first seize on. 

Edm. 
I shall serve you, sir, 
Truly, however else. 

Glos. [To Cornwall. 

For him, I thank your grace. 

Corn. 
You know not why we came to visit you. 

Regan. 

Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed night. 
Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poise, 
Wherein we must have use of your advice. 
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, 
Of differences, which I best thought it fit 



KING LEAR. 43 

To answer from our home ; the several messengers 
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend, 
Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow, 
Your needful counsel to our business, 
Which craves the instant use. 

Glos. 
I serve you, madam. 
Your graces are right welcome. 

[Enter l. Oswald crying " Help /" " help/" fol- 
lowed by Kent l. u. e. Oswald crosses to r. 
corner. Kent remains l. 

Edm. 
How now ? What 's the matter ? 

Corn. 

Keep peace, upon your lives ; 

He dies that strikes again. What is the matter ? 

Regan. 
The messengers from our sister and the king. 

Corn. 
What is your difference ? Speak ! 

Osw. [r. 

I 'm scarce in breath, my lord. 

Kent. [l. 

No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You 
cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee ; a tailor made 
thee! 

Corn. 

Thou art a strange fellow; a tailor make a man? 

Kent. 

Ay, a tailor, sir; a stone-cutter, or a painter, could not 
have made him so ill, though they had been but two hours 
at the trade. 



KING LEAR. 44 

Corn. 
Speak yet, how grew your quarrel ? 

Osw. 

This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared, 
At suit of his grey beard, 

Kent 

Thou zed! Thou unnecessary letter! — My lord, if you 
will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into 
mortar. Spare my grey beard, you wagtail! 

Corn. 
Peace, sirrah! Have you no reverence? 

Kent 
Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege. 

Corn. 
Why art thou angry ? 

Kent. 

That such a slave as this should wear a sword, 

Who wears no honesty. . 

No contraries hold more antipathy 

Than I and such a knave. 

Com. 

Why dost thou call him knave ? What 's his offence ? 

Kent. 
His countenance likes me not. 

Corn. 
No more perchance does mine, nor his, nor hers. 

Kent. 

Sir, 't is my occupation to be plain; 
I have seen better faces in my time 
Than stand on any shoulders that I see 
Before me at this instant. 



KING LEAR. 45 

Corn. 

This is some fellow, 

Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect 

A saucy roughness \ 

These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness 

Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, 

Than twenty silly, ducking observants, 

That stretch their duties nicely. 

What was the offence you gave him ? [ To Oswald. 

Osw. 

I never gave him any; 
It pleased the king, his master, very late, 
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction ; 
When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure, 
Tripped me behind ; being down, insulted, railed, 
And put upon him such a deal of man, 
That worthied him, got praises of the king, 
And in the fleshment of this dread exploit 
Drew on me here again. 

Corn. 

Fetch forth the stocks ! 

[ Two knights enter castle c. 
You stubborn, ancient knave, you reverend braggart, 
We '11 teach you ! 

Kent. 

Sir, I am too old to learn : 

Call not your stocks for me : I serve the king, 

On whose employment I was sent to you: 

You shall do small respects, show too bold malice 

Against the grace and person of my master, 

Stocking his messenger. 

Regan. 

Fetch forth the stocks • 

As I have life and honour, there shall he sit till night — 
And all night too. 
6 



KING LEAR. 46 

Kent. 

Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, 
You should not use me so. 

Regan. 

Sir, being his knave, I will. 

[Re-enter two knights, with two servants who carry 
the stocks. 

G/os. 

Let me beseech your grace not to do so : 
His fault is much, and the good king his master 
Will check him for 't ; the king must take it ill, 
That he, so slightly valued in his messenger, 
Should have him thus restrained. 

Corn. 
I '11 answer that. 

Regan. 

My sister may receive it much more worse, 
To have her gentleman abused, assaulted, 
For following her affairs. 

[Kent is put into the stocks. Exeunt Regan, 
Cornwall, Edmund, and attendants, c. 

G/os. {To Kent. 

I am sorry for thee, friend : ' t is the duke's pleasure, 

Whose disposition, all the world well knows, 

Will not be rubbed, nor stopped : I '11 entreat for thee. 

Kent. 

Pray, do not, sir. I have watched and travelled hard : 
Sometime I shall sleep out, the rest I '11 whistle. 
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels : 
Give you good-morrow ! 

G/os. [To himse/f. 

The duke 's to blame in this : ' T will be ill taken. 

[Exit G/oster c. Oswa/d approaches Kent with 
drawn sword; Kent strikes at hi?n ; Oswa/d 
runs into cast/e c. Scene changes : iights down. 



/ 



KING LEAR. 47 

Scene SecontK — A lonely Heath. Dim Starlight. 

[Enter Edgar l. i.e. 
Edgar. 

I heard myself proclaimed ; 

And by the happy hollow of a tree 

Escaped the hunt. No port is free ; no place, 

That guard, and most unusual vigilance, 

Does not attend my taking. While I may 'scape, 

I will preserve myself; and am bethought 

To take the basest and most poorest shape, 

That ever penury, in contempt of man, 

Brought near to beast. My face I '11 grime with filth, 

Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots, 

And with presented nakedness out-face 

The winds and persecutions of the sky. 

The country gives me proof and precedent 

Of Bedlam beggars, who with roaring voices, 

Strike in their numbed and mortified bare arms, 

Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary ; 

And with this horrible object, from low farms, 

Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills 

Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, 

Enforce their charity. — Poor Turlygod ! poor Tom ! 

That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am ! 

[Exit Edgar r. i.e. Scene changes : lights up. 



&ttxit flChirti i In front of Gloster's Castle. 
5 * ( discovered, in the Stocks l. u. 



[Enter Lear, Fool, and Lear's knights, who stand 
in front of Kent, not seeing him. — N. B. He is 
not seen by them till he speaks. 

Lear. 

? T is strange that they should so depart from home, 
And not send back my messenger. 



KING LEAR. 48 

Fool. 

If a man's brains were in his heels, wer 't not in danger 
of kibes ? 

Lear. 
Ay, boy. 

FooL [r. 

Then, I pr'ythee, be merry; thy wit shall not go slip- 
shod. 

Lear. 
Ha! ha! ha! 

Fool. 

Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee kindly ; for 
though she 's as like this as a crab is like an apple, yet I 
can tell what I can tell. 

Lear. 

What canst tell, boy ? 

Fool. 

She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. 
Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' the middle of 
his face ? 

Lear. 

No. 

Fool. 

Why, to keep his eyes on either side his nose ; that what 
a man cannot smell out he may spy into. 

Lear. 
I did her wrong ! — 

Fool. 

Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell ? 

Lear. 
No. 

Fool. 

Nor I neither : but I can tell why a snail has a house. 



KING LEAR. 49 

Lear, 
Why? 

Fool. 

Why, to put his head in \ not to give it away to his 
daughters, and leave his horns without a case. 

Lear. 

I will forget my nature. So kind a father! See to my 
horses. 

Fool. 

Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the 
seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason. 

Lear. 
Because they are not eight. 

Fool. 
Yes, indeed; thou wouldst make a good fool. 

Lear. 

To take 't again perforce ! — Monster ingratitude ! 

Fool. 

If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee beaten for 
being old before thy time. 

Lear. 
How's that? 

Fool. 

Thou shouldst not have been old before thou hadst 
been wise. 

Lear. 

O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven ! 
Keep me in temper ; I would not be mad ! 



KING LEAR 50 

Kent. 

Hail to thee, noble master ! 

[Knights fall back, disclosing Kent in the stocks. 

Fool. 
Ha, ha ! Look, he wears cruel garters. 

Lear. 
Ha! 
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime ? 

Kent. 
No, my lord ! 

Lear. . 

What 's he, that hath so much thy place mistook, 
To set thee here ? 

Kent 

It is both he and she ; 
Your son and daughter. 

Lear. 

No! 

Kent 
Yes! 

Lear. 

No, I say. 

Kent. 
I say, yea. 

Lear. 

No, no; they would not. 

Kent. 

Yes, they have. 

Lear. 
By Jupiter, I swear, no. 



KING LEAR. 51 

Kent. 
By Juno, I swear, ay. 

Lear. 
They durst not do it ; 

They could not, would not do 't ; 't is worse than murder, 
To do upon respect such violent outrage. 
Resolve me with all modest haste which way 
Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage, 
Coming from us. 

Kent. 

My lord, when at their home 

I did commend your highness' letter to them, 

Ere I was risen from the place that showed 

My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, 

Stewed in his haste, half breathless, panting forth 

From Goneril, his mistress, salutations; 

Delivered letters, spite of intermission, 

Which presently they read ; on whose contents, 

They straight took horse ; 

Commanded me to follow, and attend 

The leisure of their answer ; gave me cold looks \ 

And, meeting here the other messenger, 

Whose welcome, I perceived, had poisoned mine, — 

Being the very fellow which of late 

Displayed so saucily against your highness, — 

Having more man than wit about me, drew ; 

He raised the house with loud and coward cries: 

Your son and daughter found this trespass worth 

The shame which here it suffers. 

Fool. 

Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. 
Thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters as 
thou canst tell in a year. [To Lear. 

Lear. 

O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! 
Hysterica pas sio ! Down, thou climbing sorrow! 
Thy element 's below. Where is this daughter ? 



KING LEAR. 52 

Kent. 
With the earl, sir; here, within. 

Lear. [To all. 

Follow me not : 
Stay here. 

[Exit Lear c. 

FooL 

Made you no more offence but what you speak of? 

Kent. 
None. 
How chance the king comes with so small a train ? 

Fool. 

An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that question, 
thou hadst well deserved it. 

Kent. 
Why, fool ? 

Fool. 

We '11 set thee to school to an ant, to teach there's no 
labouring i' the winter. 

[Sings. 
He who serves and seeks for gain, 

And follows but for form, 
Will pack when it begins to rain, 

And leave thee in the storm; 
But, I will tarry; the fool will stay, 

And let the wise man fly; 
The knave turns fool that runs away, 
The fool no knave, perdy. 

Kent. 
Where learned you this, fool ? 

Fool. 
Not i' the stocks, fool. 

[Re-enter Lear and Gloster c. 



KING LEAR. 53 

Lear. 

Deny to speak with me ? They are sick ? they are weary ? 
They have travelled all the night ? Mere fetches, 
The images of revolt and flying off. 
Fetch me a better answer. 

Glos. [k. 

My dear lord, 
You know the fiery quality of the duke. 

Lear. 

Vengeance! Plague! Death! Confusion! 
Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster, 
I 'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. 

Glos. 
Well, my good lord, I have informed them so. 

Lear. 
Informed them ! Dost thou understand me, man ? 

Glos. 
Ay, my good lord. 

Lear. 

The king would speak, with Cornwall; the dear father 
Would with his daughter speak, commands her service : 
Are they informed of this? My breath and blood! 
Fiery? The fiery duke! — tell the hot duke that— 

[ Gloster starts towards c. 
No, but not yet: — may be, he is not well: 
Infirmity doth still neglect all office, 
Whereto our health is bound ; we are not ourselves, 
When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind 
To suffer with the body: I '11 forbear; 
And am fallen out with my more headier will, 
To take the indisposed and sickly fit 
For the sound man. — Death on my state ! Wherefore 

[Looking 07i Kent. 
Should he sit here ? This act persuades me 
7 



KING LEAR. 54 

That this remotion of the duke and her 
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. 
Go, tell the duke and 's wife I 'd speak with them, 
Now, presently; bid them come forth and hear me, 
Or at their chamber door I '11 beat the drum, 
Till it cry — "Sleep to death." 

\Enter Cornwall, Regan, lords, ladies and servants c. 

Com. 
Hail to your grace. 

[Cornwall silently indicates that Kent is to be 
released. Kent is set at liberty, by the servants, 
and goes R. 

Regan. 

I am glad to see your highness. 

Lear. [l. c. 

Regan, I think you are; I know what reason 
I have to think so ; if thou shouldst not be glad, 
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, 
Sepulch'ring an adultress. — O! are you free? 

[To Kent, who comes forward r. 
Some other time for that. — Beloved Regan, 
Thy sister's naught: O, Regan, she hath tied 
Sharp-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here, — 

[Points to his bosom. 
I can scarce speak to thee ; thou 'It not believe 
With how depraved a quality — O, Regan ! 

Regan. 

I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope 
You less know how to value her desert 
Than she to scant her duty. 

Lear. 
Say, how is that ? 



KING LEAR. 55 

Regan. 



-<v 



I cannot think my sister in the least 
Would fail her obligation ; if, sir, perchance, 
She have restrained the riots of your followers, 
'T is on such ground, and to such wholesome end, 
As clears her from all blame. 

Lear. 
My curses on her ! 

Regan. 
O, sir, you are old; 

Nature in you stands on the very verge 
Of her confine ; you should be ruled and led 
By some discretion, that discerns your state 
Better than yourself; therefore I pray you 
That to our sister you do make return ; 
Say you have wronged her, sir. 

Lear. 
Ask her forgiveness ? 

Do you but mark how this becomes the house : 
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old; 
Age is unnecessary ; on my knees I beg 
That you '11 vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food. 

Regan. 

Good sir, no more ; these are unsightly tricks : 
Return you to my sister. 

Lear. 
Never, Regan ! 

She hath abated me of half my train ; 
Looked black upon me ; struck me with her tongue, 
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart : — 
All the stored vengeances of heaven fall 
On her ungrateful top ! Strike her young bones, 
You taking airs, with lameness ! 

Corn. 
Fie, fie, fie ! 



KING LEAR. 56 

Lear. 

You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames 
Into her scornful eyes ! Infect her beauty, 
You fen-sucked fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, 
To fall and blast her pride ! 

Regan. 
O, the blest gods ! 
So you will wish on me when the rash mood is on. 

Lear. 

No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse ; 
Thy tender-hested nature shall not give 
Thee o'er to harshness : thou better know'st 
The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude ; 
Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot, 
Wherein I thee endowed. 

Regan. 
Good sir, to the purpose. 

Lear. 

Who put my man i' the stocks ? 

[Trumpets within pp. 

Com. 
What trumpet 's that ? 

Regan. 
I know 't, my sister's. 

Lear. [Looking off l. 

This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride 
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. 

[Enter Oswalds. 
Out, varlet, from my sight ! 

[Strikes Oswald, who retires. 



KING LEAR. 57 

Corn. 
What means your grace ? 

Lear. 

Who stocked my servant ? Regan, I have good hope 
Thou didst not know on \. [Trumpet p.\ Who comes 

here ? 
O, heavens ! 

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, 
Make it your cause ; send down and take my part ! 

[Enter Goneril, lords, and ladies l. i. e. 
Art not ashamed to look upon this beard ? — [To Gojieril. 

[Regan and Goneril embrace. 
O, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand ? 

Gon. [ To Lear. 

Why not by the hand, sir ? How have I offended ? 
All 's not offence that indiscretion finds, 
And dotage terms so. 

Lear. 

O, heart ! you are too tough ! — too tough ! 

Regan. [To Lear. 

I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. 

If, till the expiration of your month, 

You will return and sojourn with my sister, 

Dismissing half your train, come then to me ; 

I am now from home, and out of that provision 

Which shall be needful for your entertainment. 

Lear. 

Return to her ? and fifty men dismissed ? 
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 
To wage against the enmity o' the air ; 
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl — 
Necessity's sharp pinch ! — return with her ? 



KING LEAR. 58 

Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took 
3ur youngest born, — I could as well be brought 
ro knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg 
ro keep base life afoot. 

Gon. 
\t your choice, sir. 

Lear. 

[ pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad ; 

[ will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell ; 

We '11 no more meet, no more see one another ; 

But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter • 

3r rather, a disease that 's in my flesh, 

Which I must needs call mine ; but I '11 not chide thee ; 

Let shame come when it will, I do not call it ; 

[ do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove : 

Mend, when thou canst ; be better at thy leisure : 

[ can be patient ; I can stay with Regan, 

[, and my hundred knights. 

Regan. 
Not altogether so ; 

[ looked not for you yet, nor am provided 
For your fit welcome. ' 

Lear. 

[s this well spoken ? 

Regan. 

What ! fifty followers ? 

[s it not well ? What should you need of more ? 
V^ea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger 
Speak 'gainst so great a number. 



Gon. 

Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance 
From those that she calls servants, or from mine ? 






I 



KING LEAR. 59 

Regan. 

Why not, my lord ? If then they chanced to slack you, 
We could controul them : if you will come to me, — 
For now I spy a danger, — I entreat you 
To bring but five and twenty ; to no more 
Will I give place or notice. 

Lear. 

I gave you all 

Regan. 

And in good time you gave it. 

Lear. 

Made you my guardians, my depositaries, 

But kept a reservation to be followed 

With such a number. What ! must I come to you 

With five and twenty ? Regan, said you so ? 

Regan. 
And speak 't again, my lord ; no more with me. 

Lear. 

Those wicked creatures yet do look well favoured 
When others are more wicked ; not being the worst, 
Stands in some rank of praise : — I '11 go with thee. 

[To Goneril. 
Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, 
And thou art twice her love. 

Gon. 
Hear me, my lord : 

What need you five and twenty, ten, or five, 
To follow in a house where twice so many 
Have a command to tend you ? 

Regan. 
What need one ? 



KING LEAR. 60 

Lear. 

O, reason not the need; our basest beggars 

Are in the poorest thing superfluous. 

Allow not nature more than nature needs, 

Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady ; 

If only to go warm were gorgeous, 

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, 

Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But for true need, — 

You heavens give me patience, patience I need ! 

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, 

As full of grief as age ; wretched in both : 

If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts 

Against their father, fool me not so much 

To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger ! 

O ! let not woman's weapons, water-drops, 

Stain my man's cheeks ! No, you unnatural hags, 

I will have such revenges on you both 

That all the world shall — I will do such things, — 

What they are yet I know not, but, they shall be 

The terrors of the earth ! [Fool comes down l. 

You think I '11 weep ; 

No, I'll not weep; — 

I have full cause of weeping — 

But this heart 

Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 

Or ere I'll weep! — O, fool! I shall go mad! 

[Exeunt Lear, Kent and Fool l. i. e. 

CURTAIN. 



%tt CJ)irii* 

C A Room in Gloster's Castle. Faint 
Scene iFirgt* < noise of Storm heard, now and 

( THEN. 

[Enter Gloster and Edmund l. i.e. 

Glos. 

Alack ! alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural deal- 
ing. When I desired their leave that I might pity him, 
they took from me the use of mine own house ; charged 
me, on pain of their perpetual displeasure, neither to 
speak of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain him. 

Edm. 

Most savage and unnatural ! 

Glos. 

Go to ; say you nothing : there is division between the 
dukes, and a worse matter than that. Read this letter 
[gives him a letter} I have received to-night ; — 'tis danger- 
ous to be spoken. These injuries the king now bears will 
be revenged home. There is a part of a power already 
footed. We must incline to the king. I will seek him 
and privily relieve him. Go you, and maintain talk with 
the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he 
ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed. If I die for it, as 
no less is threatened me, the king, my old master, must be 
relieved. There is strange things toward, Edmund ; pray 
you be careful. 

[Exit Gloster r. i.e. 
8 



KING LEAR. 62 

Edm. 

This courtesy forbid thee shall the duke 
Instantly know ; and of this letter too : 

[Looking upon letter. 
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me 
That which my father loses ; no less than all : 
The younger rises when the old doth fall. 

[Enter Cornwall I,. 1. e. 

Corn. 

Where is your father, Edmund ? 

Edm. 

How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be 
just! He hath gone to relieve the king ;— and see, this 
letter approves him an intelligent party to the advantages 
of France, whose armies now are moving. O, heaven ! 
that this treason were not, or not I the detector ! 

Corn. [ Takes letter. 

I will have my revenge ere I depart this house. 



Edm. 

If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty 
business in hand. 

Corn. 

True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloster. Seek 
out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our 
apprehension. 

Edm. [Aside. 

If I find him comforting the king, I will stuff his sus- 
picion more fully. I will persevere in my course of loyalty, 
though the conflict be sore between that and my blood. 

[During this aside, Cornwall reads the letter. 



KING LEAR. 63 

Corn. 

I will lay trust upon thee ; tKou shalt find 
A dearer father in my love. 
Edmund, farewell. Go, seek the traitor Gloster : 
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. 
Though well we may not pass upon his life 
Without the form of justice, yet our power 
Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men 
May blame, but not controul. 

[Exeunt Edmund ' r., Cornwall L. 



A Heath. Storm. Loud and contin- 
ttnt Secontr* <! ued Wind and Rain. Lightning and 
Thunder. Lear discovered. 

Lear. 

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow ! 
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout, 
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks ! 

[Lightning. 
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, 
Vaunt couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, 
Singe my white head! [Thu?ider. 

And thou, all-shaking thunder, 
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! 
Crack nature's moulds, all germins spill at once 
That make ingrateful man ! 

[Rain and thunder and noise of the whistling 
blast. . 

[Enter Fool l. u. e. 
Fool. 

O, nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better 
than this rain-water out o' door. Good nuncle, in and 
ask thy daughters' blessing ; here 's a night pities neither 
wise men nor fools. [Thunder. 



KING LEAR. 64 

Lear. 

Rumble thy belly-full! spitfire! spout rain! 
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: 
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; 
I never gave you kingdom, called you children ; 
You owe me no subscription : then let fall 
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, 
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man: — 
But yet I call you servile ministers, 
That will with two pernicious daughters join 
Your high-engendered battles 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this. O, O, 't is foul! 

[Thunder, rain, and wind. Enter Kent l. 2. e. 

Kent. 
Who 's there ? 

Fool. 
Marry, a wise man and a fool. 

Kent. [ To Lear. 

Alas, sir, are you here ? Things that love night 
Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies 
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark, 
And make them keep their caves. 

[Lightning and loud thunder. 

Lear. 

Let the great gods, 

That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, 
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, 
That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
Unwhipped of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand; 
Thou perjured, and thou simular of virtue 
That art incestuous : caitiff to pieces shake, 
That under covert and convenient seeming 



KING LEAR. 65 

Hast practised on man's life : close pent-up guilts, 

Rive your concealing continents, and cry 

These dreadful summoners grace. — 

I am a man, 

More sinned against than sinning. 

[ Thunder, very loud. 
Kent. 

Gracious, my lord, hard by there is a hovel; 
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. 

[Loud sound of rain. 

Lear. 
My wits begin to turn. — 
Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy ? Art cold ? 

{To Fool. 
I am cold, myself. — Where is this straw, my fellow ? 
The art of our necessities is strange, 
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. 
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart 
That's sorry yet for thee. 

Fool. 

[Sings. All quiet, mea?iwhile. 

He that has a little tiny wit, — 
With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain, — 
Must make content with his fortunes fit; 
For the rain it raineth every day. 

Lear. 
True, my good boy. [Distant thunder and rain. 

Kent 

[Pointing to hovel L. u. E. 

Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter : 
The tyranny of the open night's too rough 
For nature to endure. 

[Storm sounds heard, but faintly — seeming to die 

away. 

Lear. 
Let me alone. 



KING LEAR. 66 

Kent 

Good my lord, enter here. 

Lear. 

Wilt break my heart ? 

Kent. 

I 'd rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. 

Lear. 

Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious storm 

Invades us to the skin : so, 't is, to thee ; 

But where the greater malady is fixed 

The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear; 

But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea 

Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the mind's 

free, 
The body 's delicate : the tempest in my mind 
Doth from my senses take all feeling else, 
Save what beats there. — Filial ingratitude ! 
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand, 
For lifting food to 't ? But I will punish home. — 
No, I will weep no more. 

[ Thunder and rain. 
In such a night 

To shut me out! pour on; I will endure: — 
In such a night as this! O, Regan, Goneril! 
Your old, kind father, whose frank heart gave all; — 
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; 
No more of that. 

Kent. [l. 

Good my lord, enter here ? 

Lear. 

Pr'ythee go in thyself; seek thine own ease; 

This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 

On things would hurt me more. — But I'll go in; 

In boy; go first. [To Fool. 

You houseless poverty, — 



KING LEAR. 67 

[Kent and Fool endeavour to lead Lear. 
Nay, get thee in. 1 '11 pray, and then I '11 sleep. 

[Fool goes into hovel l. u. e. 
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, 
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you 
From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en 
Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; 
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel ; 
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, 
And show the heavens more just. [Thunder. 

Fool. [ Within. 

Help! help! help! 

Edgar. [ Within. 

Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom! 

Fool. [ Within. 

Come not in here, n uncle; here's a spirit. 
Help me ! help me ! 

Kent. 
Give me thy hand. 
Who 's there ? 

[To Fool, — who enters l. u. e. and runs to Lear. 

Fool. 
A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's poor Tom. 

Kent. 

What are thou that dost grumble there i' the straw ? 

Come forth ! 

[Enter from the hovel L. u. E. Edgar, disguised as 
a madman. He runs to r. Kent comes behind 
Lear and interposes between him and Edgar. 

Edgar. 

Away ! the foul fiend follows me ! 

Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind : 

Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 



KING LEAR. 68 

Lear. [To Edgar. 

Hast thou given all to thy two daughters ? 
And art thou come to this ? 

Edgar. [r. 

Who gives anything to poor Tom, whom the foul fiend 
hath led through fire and through flame, through ford 
and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire; that hath laid 
knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; made him 
proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four- 
inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor. 
Bless thy five wits ! 

[ Wind and rain. 

Tom 's a-cold. O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from 
whirlwinds, star-blasting and taking ! Do poor Tom some 
charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have 
him now, — and there, — and there, — and there again, and 
there. 

[Eain, and rumble of distant thunder. 

Lear. 

What! have his daughters brought him to this pass? 

[To Edgar. 
Couldst thou save nothing ? Didst thou give them all ? 

Fool. 
Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. 

Lear. 

Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air 
Hang fated o'er men's faults, fall on thy daughters \ 

Kent 

He hath no daughters, sir. 

Lear. 

Death, traitor ! Nothing could have subdued nature 
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters ! 
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers 



KING LEAR. 69 

Should have thus little mercy on their flesh ? 

[Draws a thorn, or wooden spike, from Edgar's 
arm and tries to th?-ust it into his own. 
Judicious punishment ! 'T was this flesh begot 
Those pelican daughters. 

[Edgar seizes Lear's hand and takes away the thorn. 

Edgar, 

Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill ; — 
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! 

Eool. 
This night will turn us all to fools and madmen. 

Edmr. 

Take heed o' the foul fiend. Obey thy parents ; keep 
thy word justly ; swear not; commit not with man's sworn 
spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom 's 
a-cold. 

Lear. 

What hast thou been ? 

Edgar. 

A serving man, proud in heart and mind ; that curled 
my hair ; wore gloves in my cap ; swore as many oaths as 
I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven. 
Wine loved I deeply ; dice dearly ; false of heart, light of 
ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in 
greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the 
creaking of shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy 
poor heart to woman : keep thy foot out of brothels, thy 
hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and 
defy the foul fiend. — Still through the hawthorn blows the 
cold wind. Sessa, sessa ! Ha, no, nonny. Dolphin, my 
boy, my boy ; sessa ! sessa ! Let him trot by. 

[Distant rain and thimder. 

9 



KING LEAR. 



7 



Lear, 

Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with 
thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man 
no more than this ? Consider him well. Thou owest 
the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, 
the cat no perfume. — Ha ! here 's three of us are sophisti- 
cated; thou art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is 
no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou 
art. — Off! off! you len dings: — come; unbutton here. 

[Lear essays to tear off his clothes, 

Fool. . [Preventing him. 

Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented ; 't is a naughty night to 
swim in. Look, here comes a walking fire. 

[Pointing l. 2. e. 
Edgar. 

This is the foul fiend, Flibbertigibbet; he begins at 
curfew, and walks till the first cock ; he gives the web and 
the pin, squints the eye, and makes the hare-lip ; mildews 
the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth. 

Saint Withold footed thrice the wold ; 

He met the night-mare and her nine-fold ; 

Bid her alight, and her troth plight, 

And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee ! 

Kent. 

[Speaking to those who approach. 
Who 's there. What is 't you seek ? 

[Lear sits on a fallen tree. Fool sits at his left, 
Kent at l. back. 

Glos. [Calling, within. 

What are you there ? Your names ? 

[Enter Gloster, and two servants with torches, l. 2. e. 

Edgar. 

Poor Tom ; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the 
tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water; that, in the fury of 
his heart, when the foul fiend rages, swallows the old rat, 



KING LEAR. 7 I 

and the ditch dog; drinks the green mantle of the stand- 
ing pool ; who is whipped from tything to tything, and 
stocked, punished, and imprisoned; who hath had three 
suits to his back, six shirts to his body, horse to ride, and 
weapon to wear. 

But mice and rats, and such small deer, 
Have been Tom's food for seven long year. 
Beware my follower : — Peace, Smolkin ; peace, thou fiend ! 
[Edgar goes to Lear c. Gloster takes torch and 
sends off servants, who go out l. 2. e. 

G/os. [To Lear. 

What, hath your grace no better company ? 

Edgar. 

The prince of darkness is a gentleman; 
Modo he 's called, and Mahu. 

G/os. 

Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile 
That it doth hate what gets it. 

Edgar. 
Poor Tom 's a-cold. 

G/os. [To Lear. 

Go in with me : my duty cannot suffer 

To obey in all your daughters' hard commands ! 

Though their injunction be to bar my doors, 

[ Thunder and lightning. 
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, 
Yet have I ventured to come seek you out, 
And bring you where both fire and food is ready. 

Lear. 

First let me talk with this philosopher. [Thunder. 

What is the cause of thunder ? [To Edgar. 

Kent. 
Good my lord, take his offer. 



KING LEAR. 72 

Lear. 

I '11 talk a word with this same learned Theban : — 
What is your study? [To Edgar. 

Edgar. 

How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. 

Lear. 

Let me ask you one word in private. 

[He whispers to Edgar. 
Kent. [To Gloster. 

Importune him once more to go, my lord; 
His wits begin to unsettle. 

Glos. 
Canst thou blame him ? 

His daughters seek his death: — ah, that good Kent! 
He said it would be thus : poor banished man. 
I '11 tell thee, friend, 
I am almost mad myself; I had a son, 
Now outlawed from my blood : he sought my life, 

[Edgar listens, and evinces emotion. 
But lately, very late : I loved him, friend, — 
No father his son dearer: true to tell thee, 
The grief hath crazed my wits. 

[ Sounds of tempest. 
What a night 's this ! 
I do beseech your grace [To Lear. 

Lear. 

I '11 see their trial first. — Bring in the evidence. 
Thou robed man of justice, take thy place; [To Edgar. 
And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, [To Fool. 

Bench by his side. 

[Fool runs to R. of Lear and sits near him. 
Now, you she-foxes ! . 

Edgar. 

[As if stroking a cat beside him at r. 
Purr! the cat is grey! 



KING LEAR. 73 

Lear. 

Arraign her first : 't is Goneril. 
And here 's another, whose warped looks proclaim 
What store her heart is made of. — Stop her there ! 
Arms, arms, sword, fire ! — Corruption in the place ! 
False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape? 

Edgar, 

[N. B. — See bier ready l. 
Bless thy five wits ! 

Kent. 

O, pity! — Sir, where is the patience now, 

That you so oft have boasted to retain ? [To Lear. 

Lear. 

To have a thousand, with red burning spits 
Come hissing in upon them! 

Edgar. [Aside. 

My tears begin to take his part so much, 
They '11 mar my counterfeiting. 

Lear. 
The little dogs and all, 
Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me. 

Edgar. [r. 

Tom will throw his head at them. [Rises. 

Avaunt, you curs! 

Be thy mouth or black or white, 

Tooth that poisons if it bite; 

Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, 

Hound or spaniel, brach or lym; 

Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail, 

Tom will make him weep and wail: 

For, with throwing thus my head, 

[Throws straw crown to l. 

Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. 
Sessa! — Come, march to wakes and fairs and market- 
towns : — [ Crosses L. h. 
Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. 



KING LEAR. 74 

Lear. [ To Edgar. 

You sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only, I do 
not like the fashion of your garments: you will say they 
are Persian; but let them be changed. 

Edgar. 

[Crouching at the feet of Lear. 
Fratteretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler in 
the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and beware the foul 
fiend. 

Kent. [To Lear. 

Now, good my lord, go in, and rest awhile. 

Edgar 
Tom 's a-cold. 

Glos. [ Touches Edgar. 

In fellow, there, into the hovel : keep thee warm. 

[Gloster goes to l. corner. 

Edgar. [Rising slowly. 

Childe Rowland to the dark tower came; 
His word was still — Fie, foh, and fum, 
I smell the blood of a British man. 

[Exit Edgar l. u. e. 
[At Edgar 1 s exit Gloster comes behind, from l., 
gives torch to Eool, and stands at r. of Lear, 
ready to place him on the bier. Lear, left by 
Edgar, gradually sinks into the arms of Kent, 
who stands beside him at l. 
[Enter two servants with a bier ; they place it l. 
1. e., and retire up. 

Lear. 

Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds about 
her heart : is there any cause in nature that makes these 
hard hearts ? 

[Kent and Gloster gently place Lear on the bier. 

Hush! Hush! Make no noise — make no noise: draw 
the curtains: so — so, so; we'll go to supper i' the morn- 
ing. So — so, so. 



KING LEAR. 75 

Fool. 

And I '11 go bed at noon. 

[Kent, Glosler, and the two servants lift the bier 
gently, and carry it slowly towards R. 2. E. As 
they are crossing the Fool sings : 

Fool. 

He that hath a little tiny wit, 

With heigh, ho, the wind and the rain, — 

Must make content with his fortunes fit, 
For the rain it raineth every day! 

SLOW CURTAIN. 



jFtrisk | 



3tct f ourtt)- 

Heath. Same as in Act Third. Day- 



»cene 

LIGHT AND FAIR WEATHER 



[Enter Albany and a herald. 

Herald. 
O, my lord ! 

The Duke of Cornwall's dead; slain by his servant, 
While putting out the eyes of Gloster. 

Alb. 

Gloster's eyes ! This shows you are above, 
You justicers, that these our nether crimes 
So speedily can venge ! But, O, poor Gloster ! 
Lost he his eyes ? 

Herald. 
Yes, my lord. 

Alb. 
Where was his son ? 
Knows he the wickedness ? 

Herald. 

Ay, my good lord, 'twas he informed against him; 
And quit the house on purpose that their punishment 
Might have the freer course. 

Alb. 
Gloster, I live, 

To thank thee for the love thou show 'dst the king, 
And to revenge thee ! Come friend, 
Tell me what more thou knowest. 

[Exeunt r. i. e. Enter Edgar, from hovel I,, u, E. 



KING LEAR. 77 

Edgar. 

Yet better thus and known to be contemned 

Than still contemned and flattered: to be worst, 

The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, 

Stand still in esperance, lives not in fear • 

The lamentable change is from the best ; 

The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then, 

Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace : 

The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst 

Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here ? 

My father, poorly led ? World, world, O, world ! 

But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 

\E?iter Gloster, led by an old man. 
Life would not yield to age. 

Old Man. 

O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your 
father's tenant, these fourscore years. 

Glos. 

Away, get thee away ! Good friend, begone ; 
Thy comforts can do me no good at all ; 
Thee they may hurt. 

Old Man. 

Alack, sir, you cannot see* your way. 

Glos. 

I have no way, and therefore want no eyes : 

I stumbled when I saw. 

Ah, dear son, Edgar, 

The food of thy abused father's wrath, 

Might I but live to see thee in my touch, 

I 'd say I had my eyes again ! 

Old Man. 

How now ! Who 's there ? 

Edgar. [Aside. 

O, gods ! Who is't can say, I am at the worst ? 
I am worse than e'er I was. 
10 



KING LEAR. 78 

Old Man. 
Tis poor mad Tom. 

Edgar. [Aside. 

And w6rse I may be yet : the worst is not, 
So long as we can say, " This is the worst." 

Old Man. 
Fellow, where goest ? 

Glos. 
Is it a beggar-man ? 

Old Man. 

Madman and beggar too. 

Glos. 

He has some reason, else he could not beg. 

I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw, 

Which made me think a man a worm : my son 

Came then into my mind : and yet my mind 

Was then scarce friends with him; I have heard more 

since. 
As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods ; 
They kill us for their sport. 

Edgar. [Aside. 

How should this be ? 

Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, 
Angering itself and others. 

[To Gloster. — Edgar assumes the voice of the 
Bedlamite when speaking to Gloster. 
Bless thee, master ! 

Glos. 
Is that the naked fellow ? 

Old Man. 
Ay, my lord. 



KING LEAR. 79 

Glos. 

Then pr'ythee, get thee gone. If, for my sake, 
Thou wilt o'ertake us 7 hence a mile or twain, 
F the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love ; 
And bring some covering for this naked soul, 
Whom I '11 entreat to lead me. 

Old Man. 
Alack, sir ! he is mad. 

Glos. 1 

Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the blind. 
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure; 
Above the rest, be gone. 

Old Man. [To himself. 

I '11 bring him the best 'parel that I have, 

Come on't what will. [Exit Old Man l. i. e. 

Glos. 
Sirrah ; naked fellow ! 

Edgar. 

Poor Tom 's a-cold. — I cannot daub it further. [Aside. 

Glos. 
Come hither, fellow. 

Edgar. [Aside. 

And yet I must. 
Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. [ To Glosler. 

Glos. 
Know'st thou the way to Dover ? 

Edgar. 

Both stile and gate — horse-way and foot-path. Poor 
Tom hath been scared out of his good wits ; bless thee, 
good man's son, from the foul fiend! 



KING LEAR. 80 



Glos. 



Here, take this purse, thou whom the heaven's plagues 
Have humbled to all strokes : that I am wretched, 
Makes thee the happier. Dost thou know Dover ? 

Edgar. 
Ay, master. 

Glos. 

There is a cliff, whose high and bending head 
Looks fearfully in the confined deep : 
Bring me but to the very brim of it, 
And I '11 repair the misery thou dost bear, 
With something rich about me : from that place 
I shall no leading need. 

Edgar. 
Give me thy arm! 
Poor Tom shall lead thee. 

[Exeunt Gloster and Edgar R. Enter Cordelia, 
Physician, and soldiers l. 

Cord. 

Alack! 't is he; why, he was met, even now, 

As mad as the vexed sea; singing aloud; 

Crowned with rank fumiter and farrow weeds, 

With harlocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo flowers, 

Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 

In our sustaining corn. — A century send forth ; 

Search every acre in the high-grown field, 

And bring him to our eye. [Exit an officer r. 

What can man's wisdom, [To Physician. 

In the restoring his bereaved sense? 

He that helps him take all my outward worth. 

Phy. 
There is means, madam. 
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, 
The which he lacks; that to provoke in him 
Are many simples operative, whose power 
Will close the eye of anguish. 



KING LEAR. 8 1 

Cord. 
All blessed secrets, 

All you unpublished virtues of the earth, 
Spring with my tears ! be aidant and remediate, 
In the good man's distress ! Seek, seek for him; 
Lest his ungoverned rage dissolve the life 
That wants the means to lead it. \Enter Curan r. i. e. 

Cur an. 
News, madam. 
The British powers are marching hither ward. 

Cord. 

'T is known before : our preparation stands 

In expectation of them. — O, dear father! 

It is thy business that I go about, 

Therefore great France 

My mourning and important tears hath pitied. 

No blown ambition doth our arms incite, 

But love, dear love, and our aged father's right. 

[Exeunt Cordelia, Physician, Curan and soldiers 

r. i. e. Enter Gloster and Edgar l. u. e. 

Edgar is dressed in garments of a peasant. 

Glos. 
When shall I come to the top of that same hill ? 

Edgar. 
\Assu7ning a rougher voice than is natural to him. 
You do climb it now : look, how we labour. 

Glos. 
Methinks the ground is even. 

Edgar. 
Horrible steep ! 
Hark ! Do you hear the sea ? 

Glos. 
No, truly. 



KING LEAR. 52 

Edgar. 

Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect, 
By your eyes' anguish. 

Glos. 
So it may be, indeed. 

Methinks thy voice is altered ; and thou speakest 
In better phrase and manner than thou didst. 

Edgar. 

You are much deceived ; in nothing am I changed 
But in my garments. 

Glos. 

Methinks you are better spoken. 

Edgar. 

Come on, sir; here's the place; stand still. — How fearful 

And dizzy 't is to cast one's eyes so low ! 

The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, 

Show scarce so gross as beetles : half way down 

Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! 

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. 

The fishermen that walk upon the beach 

Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark, 

Diminished to her cock ; her cock, a buoy, 

Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge, 

That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes, 

Cannot be heard so high. I '11 look no more ; 

Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 

Topple down headlong. 

Glos. 
Set me where you stand. 

Edgar. 

Give me your hand; you are now within a foot 
Of th' extreme verge : for all beneath the moon 
Would I not leap upright. 



KING LEAR. 83 

Glos. 
Let go my hand. 

Here, friend, is another purse ; in it a jewel 
Well worth a poor man's taking ; fairies and gods, 
Prosper it with thee ! Go thou further off; 
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. 

Edgar. 
Now fare you well, good sir. [Edgar retires up. 

Glos. 
With all my heart. 

Edgar. 

Why I do trifle thus with his despair, 
Is done to cure it. 

Glos. [Kneels. 

O, you mighty gods ! 

This world I do renounce, and in your sights 
Shake patiently my great affliction off. 
If I could bear it longer, and not fall 
To quarrel with your great, opposeless wills, 
My loathed part of nature should itself 
Burn to the last. 

If Edgar live, O, bless him! — [Rises. 

Now, fellow, fare thee well. [ To Edgar. 

[Is about to leap forward \ when Edgar catches him. 

Edgar. 

Hold ! Who comes here ? 

[Enter Lear, fantastically dressed up with wild 
flowers. 

Lear. 

No, they cannot touch me for coining; 
I am the king himself. 

Edgar. [Aside. 

O, thou side-piercing sight ! 



KING LEAR. 84 

Lear, 

Nature 's above art in that respect. — There 's your press- 
money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper: 
draw me a clothier's yard. — Look, look, a mouse. Peace, 
peace! — This piece of toasted cheese will do it. There's 
my gauntlet; I '11 prove it on a giant. — Bring up the 
brown -bills — O, well-flown bird! — I' the clout, i' the 
clout : hewgh ! — Give the word. [ To Edgar. 



Edgar. 



Sweet marjoram ! 

Lear. 
Pass. [Edgar crosses l. 

Glos. [r. 

I know that voice. 

Lear. [Perceiving Gloster. 

Ha! Goneril ! — with a white beard! They flattered 
me like a dog; and told me I had white hairs in my beard, 
ere the black ones were there. To say " ay," and " no," 
to everything I said. — " Ay " and " no " too was no good 
divinity. When the rain came to wet me once, and the 
wind to make me chatter ; when the thunder would not 
peace at my bidding ; there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em 
out. Go to, they are not men of their words ; they told 
me I was everything : 't is a lie ; I am not ague-proof. 

Glos. 

The trick of that voice I do well remember ; 
Is 't not the king ? 

Lear. 
Ay, every inch a king ! 

When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. 
I pardon that man's life : what was the cause ? 
Adultery ? 

Thou shalt not die : die for adultery ? no : 
The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly 
Does lecher in my sight. 



KING LEAR. 85 

To 't luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers. 

Fie, fie, fie ! Pah ; pah ! 

Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, 

To sweeten my imagination. 

There 's money for thee. 

Glos. 
O, let me kiss that hand ! 

Lear. 
Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality. 

Glos. 

O, ruined piece of nature ! This great world 
Should so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me ? 

Lear. 

I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny 
at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid; I'll not love. 
Read thou this challenge; mark but the penning of it. 

Glos. 
Were all the letters suns I could not see one. 

Edgar. [Aside. 

I would not take this from report : it is — 
And my heart breaks at it. 

Lear. 
Read. 

Glos. 

What, with this case of eyes ? 

Lear. 

O, ho ! are you there with me ? No eyes in your 
head, nor no money in your purse ? Your eyes are in a 
heavy case, your purse in a light: yet, you see how this 
world goes. 
11 



KING LEAR. 86 

Glos. 
I see it feelingly. 

Lear. 

What, art mad ? A man may see how this world goes 
with no eyes. Look with thine ears! See how yond' 
justice rails at yond' simple thief. Hark, in thine ear; 
change places; and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, 
which the thief? Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a 
beggar? 

Glos. 
Ay, sir. 

Lear. 

And the creature run from the cur? There thou 
mightst behold the great image of authority: a dog's 
obeyed in office. 

The usurer hangs the cozener; 

Through tattered clothes small vices do appear; 

Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, 

And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ; 

Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. 

None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em: 

Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 

To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes, 

And, like a scurvy politician, seem 

To see the things thou dost not. 

Edgar. [Aside. 

O, matter and impertinency mixed ! 
Reason in madness ! 

Lear. 

If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. 
I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloster. 
Thou must be patient. We came crying hither. 
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, 
We wawl and cry: — I will preach to thee; mark me. 

Glos. 
Alack, alack the day ! 



KING LEAR. 87 

Lear. 
When we are born, we cry that we are come 
To this great stage of fools ; — 

[Enter Curan with attendants l. u. e. 

Curan. 
O, here he is ; lay hand upon him. 

[They take Lear very gently by the arms. 
Sir, your most dear daughter 

Lear. 
No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even 
The natural fool of fortune. — Use me well ; 
You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons, — 
I am cut to the brains. 

Cura?i. 
You shall have anything. 

Lear. 

No seconds ? All myself! 

I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What ? 

I will be jovial : come, come ; I am a king, 

My masters, know you that ? 

Curan. [r. 

You are a royal one, and we obey you. 

[Curan and attendants uncover and fall back. 
Lear takes Curan' s hat. 

Lear. 
This is a good block. 
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 
A troop of horse with felt : I '11 put it in proof; 
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law, 
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill ! 

[Exit Lear, followed by Curan and attendaiits. 

Edgar. [Aside. 

A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ; 

Past speaking of in a king! — Thou hast one daughter; 

Who redeems nature from the general curse 

Which twain have brought her to. 



KING LEAR. 88 

Glos. 

You ever gentle gods, take my breath from me ; 
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again 
To die before you please. 

Edgar, 
Well pray you, father. 

Glos. 
Now, good sir, who are you ? 



Edgar. 

A most poor man, made tame by fortune's blows, 
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand ; 
I '11 lead you to some biding. 

[Edgar leads Gloster l. Enter Oswald l. i. e. 



Osw. 

A proclaimed prize ! Most happy ! 
That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh 
To raise my fortunes. — Thou old, unhappy traitor, 
Briefly thyself remember : the sword is out 

[Draws sword. 
That must destroy thee. 

Glos. [To Edgar. 

Now let thy friendly hand 

Put strength into it. [Edgar opposes Oswald. 

Osw. 

Wherefore, bold peasant, 

Dar'st thou support a published traitor ? Hence ; 

Lest that infection of his fortune take 

Like hold on thee. Let go his arm ! 



KING LEAR. 89 

Edgar. 
Ch 'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. 

Osw. 
Let go, slave, or thou di'est ! 

Edgar. 

Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor volk pass. 
And ch 'ud ha' been zwaggared out of my life, 't would 
not ha' been zo long as 't is by a vortnight. Nay, come 

[ Oswald advances. 
not near th' old man ; keep che vor 'ye, or ise try whether 
your costard or my ballow be the harder. Ch 'ill be-plain 
with you. 

Osw. 

Out, dunghill ! 

Edgar. 

Ch 'ill pick your teeth, zir; come; no matter vor your 
foins. 

[ They fight. Edgar disarms Osw aid > and kills him. 

Osw. 

Slave, thou hast slain me : villain, take my purse ; 
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body ; 
And give the letters, which thou find'st about me, 
To Edmund, Earl of Gloster : seek him out 
Upon the British party: — O, untimely death ! 

[ Oswald dies. 

Edgar. 

I know thee well — a serviceable villain; 
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress, 
As badness would desire. 

Glos. 

What ! is he dead ? 



KING LEAR. 90 

Edgar. 

Let 's see his pockets ; these letters that he speaks of 
May be my friends. He 's dead ; I am only sorry 
He had no other death's-man. — Let us see : 

[ Takes letters from pockets of Oswald. 
Leave, gentle wax ; and, manners, blame us not ; 
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts ; 
Their paper is more lawful. 

\Reads. 
" Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have 
many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, 
time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing 
done if he return the conqueror ; then I am the prisoner 
— deliver me and supply his place for your labour. 

"Your — wife, so I would say, — 

"affectionate servant, 

" GONERIL." 

[Aside. 
O, undistinguished space of woman's will ! 
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life ; 
And the exchange, my brother. \Drams at distance. 

Give me your hand ; [ To Gloster. 

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. 
Come father ; I '11 bestow you with a friend. 

[Exeunt l. 2. e. 



A Tent in the French Camp; Cur- 
§2>ttnz IfeeamS* \ tains on Tent. Couch and Stool 
behind Tent. 

[Enter Cordelia and Ke?it r. i.e. 

Cord. 

O, thou good Kent ! How shall I live and work 
To match thy goodness ? My life will be too short, 
And every measure fail me. 



KING LEAR. 



9 1 



Kent 

To be acknowledged, madam, is o'er-paid. 
All my reports go with the modest truth \ 
Nor more, nor clipped, but so. 

Cord. 
Be better suited : 

These weeds are memories of those worser hours ; 
I pr'ythee put them off. 

Kent. 

Pardon me, dear madam; 

Yet to be known shortens my made intent : « 

My boon, I make it, that you know me not, 

Till time and I think meet. 

[Enter Physician and attendant, from tent. 

Cord. 

Then be 't so. my good lord. 

How does the king ? [ To Physician. 

Phy. 

Madam, sleeps still. [Physician sends attendant off l. 

Cord. 
O, you kind gods, 

Cure this great grief in his abused nature ! 
The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up, 
Of this child-changed father ! 

Phy. 
So please your majesty, 
That we may wake the king ? He hath slept long. 

Cord. 

Be governed by your knowledge, and proceed 
r the sway of your own will. Is he arrayed? 

Phy. 

Ay, madam ; in the heaviness of sleep 
We put fresh garments on him. 



KING LEAR. 92 

Kent. 

Be by, good madam, when we do awake him; 
I doubt not of his temperance. 

Cord. 
Very well. [Music pp. 

Phy. 
Please you draw near. [To Cordelia. 

Louder the music there. [Spoken off. 

[Music p. 
[Kent and Physician raise curtains of tent, discov- 
ering Lear. Kent r. Physician l. 

Cord. [c. 

O, my dear father ! Restoration hang 

Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss 

Repair thoke violent harms that my two sisters 

Have in thy reverence made ! [Kisses Lear. 

Kent. 
Kind and dear princess ! 

Cord. 

Had you not been their father, these white flakes 

Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face 

To be exposed against the warring winds ? 

To stand against the deep, dread-bolted thunder. 

In the most terrible and nimble stroke 

Of quick cross-lightning ? Mine enemy's dog, 

Though he had bit me, should have stood that night 

Against my fire : and wast thou fain, poor father, 

To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn, 

In short and musty straw ? Alack, alack ! 

'T is wonder that thy life and wits at once 

Had not concluded all. — He wakes; speak to him. 

Phy. 
Madam, do you ; 't is fittest. 



KING LEAR. 93 

Cord. [To Lear, who awakes. 
How does my royal lord ? How fares your majesty ? 

Lear. 

You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave. 
Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound 
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears 
Do scald like molten lead. 

Cord. 
Sir, do you know me ? 

Lear. 

You are a spirit. I know. When did you die ? 

Cord. 
Still, still, far wide. 

Phy. 
He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile. 

Lear. 

Where have I been ? Where am I ? Fair daylight ? — 
\Kent and Physician assist Lear to rise. Music 
ceases. 
I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity, 
To see another thus. I know not what to say : 
I will not swear these are my hands : — 
Would I were assured 
Of my condition ! 

Cord. 
O, look upon me, sir, 

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me : — 
No, sir, you must not kneel. 

[As Lear is about to kneel, Cordelia and Physician 
raise him. Physician brings down stool from 
tent. Lear sits on it c. 
12 



KING LEAR. 94 

Lear. 
Pray, do not mock me ; 
I am a very foolish, fond old man, 
Four score and upward ; not an hour more nor less ; 
And, to deal plainly, 
I fear I am not in my perfect mind. 

[ Cordelia goes down to r. comer. 
Methinks I should know you, and know this man ; 
Yet I am doubtful ; for I am mainly ignorant 
What place this is : and all the skill I have 
Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not 
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; 
For, as I am a man, I think this lady 
To be my child Cordelia. 

[Cordelia rushes to Lear and falls on her knees 
in front of him. 

Cord. 
And so I am ! I am ! 

Lear. 

Be your tears wet ? Yes 'faith. I pray, weep not ; 
If you have poison for me I will drink it. 
I know you do not love me ; for your sisters 
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong. 
You have some cause ; they have not. 

Cord. 
No cause, no cause. 

Lear. 
Am I in France ? 

Kent. 
In your own kingdom, sir. 

Lear. 
Do not abuse me. 



KING LEAR. 95 

Phy. 

Be comforted, good madam; the great rage, 
You see, is cured in him ; trouble him no more, 
Till further settling. 

Lear, 
You must bear with me : 

Pray you, now forget and forgive : [Music pp. 

I am old and foolish. Forget and forgive ! 
Forget and forgive ! forget and forgive ! 

SLOW CURTAIN. 



5tct fifty- 



i&ttrit iFitfit, 



An Encampment. Flourish at rise of 
Curtain. Albany and Forces, and 
Edgar, disguised, are discovered. 
Edgar and Albany advance. 

Edgar. 

If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor, 

Hear me one word. Ope this letter. 

Wretched though I seem, 

I can produce a champion that will prove 

What is avouched there. Fortune love you ! [ Going r. 

Alb. 

Stay till I have read the letter. 

Edgar. 
I was forbid it. 

When time shall serve, let but the herald cry 
And I '11 appear again. [Exit Edgar r. 

Alb. 

Why, fare thee well. I will o'erlook thy paper. 

[Exit Albany l. u. e. Enter Edmund l. 2. e. 

Edm. 

To both these sisters have I sworn my love ; 

Each jealous of the other, as the stung 

Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take ? 

Both ? one ? or neither ? Neither, 

If both remain alive ; to take the widow, 

Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril ; 

And hardly shall 1 carry out my side, 



KING LEAR. 



97 



Her husband being alive. Now, the battle done, 
Let her who would be rid of him devise 
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy 
Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, 
They shall never see his pardon ; for my state 
Stands on me to defend, not to debate. 

[Enter Albany. 

Alb. 

Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain, 
And fortune led you well : you have the captives 
Who were the opposites of this day's strife. 
We do require them of you, so to use them, 
As we shall find their merits, and our safety 
May equally determine. 

Edni. 

Sir, I thought it fit 

To send the old and miserable king 

To some retention and appointed guard: 

With him I sent the queen; 

My reason all the same; and they are ready, 

To-morrow, or at further space, to appear 

Where you shall hold your session. 

The question of Cordelia and her father 

Requires a fitter place. 

Alb. 

Sir, by your patience, 

I hold you but a subject of this war, 

Not as a brother. I arrest thee on capital treason. 

Thou art armed, Gloster. Let the trumpet sound : 

If none appear, to prove upon thy person, 

Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, 

There is my pledge. 

[ Throws down glove. 
I '11 prove it on thy heart, 
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less 
Than I have here proclaimed thee. 



KING LEAR. 98 

Edm. 
There 's my exchange; 

[ Throws down glove. 
What in the world he is 
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. 
Call by thy trumpet : he that dares approach, 
On him, on you, who not ? I will maintain 
My truth and honour firmly. 

Alb. 

Trust to thy single virtue ; for thy soldiers, 
All levied in my name, have in my name 
Took their discharge. 

Come hither, herald, — let the trumpet sound, 
And read out this. 

Herald. 
Sound trumpet ! f Trumpet sounds. 

Herald. [Reads. 

" If any man of quality or degree, within the lists of the 
army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of 
Gloster, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear at the 
third sound of the trumpet : he is bold in his defence ! " 

Edm. 



Sound ! 


- 




[ Triwipet sounds. 






Herald. 


. 


Again ! 




Herald. 


[ Trumpet sounds. 


Again ! 


[ Trumpet 
enters, < 


answers within. 
%rmed, r. i. e. 


[ Trumpet sounds. 
Flourish. Edgar 



Alb. [To Herald. 



Ask him his purpose, why he appears 
Upon this call of the trumpet ? 



KING LEAR. qq 

Herald, 

What are you ? 

Your name, your quality, and why you answer 

This present summons ? {Herald retires up. 

Edgar. 
Know, my name is lost \ 

By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit ; 
Yet am I noble as the adversary 
I come to cope withal. 

Alb. 
Which is that adversary ? 

Edgar. 

What 's he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloster ? 

Ed j) i. 
Himself: what say'st thou to him ? 

Edgar. 

Draw thy sword ; 

That, if my speech offend a noble heart, 

Thy arm may do thee justice : here is mine. 

[Displays sword. 
Behold, it is my privilege, the privilege of mine honours, 
My oath and my profession : I protest, 
Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence, 
Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, 
Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor ; 
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father ; 
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince ; 
And, from the extremest upward of thy head, 
To the descent and dust below thy feet, 
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou " No," 
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent 
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, 
Thou liest ! 



KING LEAR. IOO 

Edm. 

In wisdom, I should ask thy name; 
But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, 
And that thy tongue some 'say of breeding breathes, 
What safe and nicely I might well delay, 
By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn. 
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head ; 
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; 
Which, for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise, 
This sword of mine shall give them instant way 
Where they shall rest forever. — Trumpets speak ! 

[Flourish. Edgar and Edmund fight. Edmund 
falls r., and is caught and supported by two 
officers. 

Edm. 

What you have charged me with, that have I done ; 
And more, much more; the time will bring it out: 
'T is past, and so am I : but what art thou, 
That hast this fortune on me ? If thou 'rt noble, 
I do forgive thee. 

Edgar. 
Let's exchange charity. 

I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund : 
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. 
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to plague us. 

Edm. 

Thou hast spoken right ; 't is true ; 

The wheel is come full circle; I am here; 

But, O, I pant for life. 

Some good I mean to do, 

Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send — 

Be brief in it — to the castle; for my writ 

Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia. 

Edgar. 

Who has the office ? Send 
Thy token of reprieve ! 



Take my sword; 
Give it the captain. 



KING LEAR. IOI 

Edm. 
\Edgar picks up sword and goes out. 



Edm. [ To Albany. 

He hath commission from thy wife and me 
To hang Cordelia, in the prison, and 
To lay the blame upon her own despair, 
That she fordid herself. 

Alb. 

The gods defend her! Bear him hence. 

[Edmund is borne off R. Albany in r. corner. 
Enter Lear, with Cordelia, dead, i?i his arms. 
Edgar, Officer, Cur an, and Kent follow him. 

Lear. 

Howl, howl, howl, howl ! — O ! you are men of stone ! 

Had I your tongues and eyes, I 'd use them so 

That heaven's vault should crack: — she's gone forever! 

I know when one is dead, and when one lives; 

She's dead as earth : — lend me a looking-glass ; 

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, 

Why, then she lives. 

Kent 

Is this the promised end ? 

Edgar. 
Or image of that horror ? 

Alb. 
Fall and cease. 

Lear. 

[Takes feather from Kenfs hat and holds it to 
Cordelia's lips. 
This feather stirs : she lives ! 
If it be so, 

It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have felt. 
I 3 



KING LEAR. 102 

Kent. [Kneeling. 

O, my good master! 

Lear. 
Pr'ythee away. 

Edgar. 

'T is noble Kent, your friend. 

Lear. 

A plague upon you, murderers, traitors, all ! 

I might have saved her : now, she 's gone forever ! 

Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little ! ha ! 

What is 't thou say'st ? Her voice was ever soft, 

Gentle and low — an excellent thing in woman. — 

I killed the slave that was a-hanging thee. 

Curan. [ To all. 

Tis true, my lords, he did. 

Lear. 
Did I not, fellow? 

I have seen the day with my good biting faulchion 
I would have made them skip : I am old now, 
And these same crosses spoil me. — Who are you? 

[To Kent. 
Mine eyes are not of the best: — I'll tell you straight. 

Kent. 

If fortune brag of two she loved and hated, 
One of them we behold. 

Lear. 

This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent ? 

Kent. 

The same. 

Your servant Kent : where is your servant Caius ? 

Lear. 

He's a good fellow, I can tell you that. 

He '11 strike, and quickly too : he 's dead and rotten. 



KING LEAR. 103 

Kent 
No, my good lord, I am the very man 

Lear. 
I '11 see that straight. 

Kent. 

That from your first of difference and decay 
Have followed your sad steps. 

Lear. 
You are welcome hither. 

Kent. 

Nor no man else ; all's cheerless, dark and deadly. 
Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves 
And desperately are dead. 

Lear. 
Ay, so I think. 

Alb. 

He knows not what he says, and vain it is, 
That we present us to him. 

Edgar. 
Very bootless. O ! see ! see ! 

Lear. 

And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life : 

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, 

And thou no breath at all ? Thou 'It come no more, 

Never, never, never, never, never ! — 

Pray you, undo this button : thank you, sir. — 

Do you see this ? Look on her, — look, her lips. — 

Look there ! Look there ! 



KING LEAR. 
Ke7lt. 

Break heart ; I pray thee, break ! 



My lord ! My lord ! 



Edgar. 
Kent. 






104 



Lear dies. 



Vex not his ghost ! 

[Music very soft and mournful, to end of the scene 
O, let him pass ; he hates him, 
That would upon the rack of this tough world 
Stretch him out longer. 

Edgar. 
He is gone indeed. 

SLOW CURTAIN. 




KING LEAR. 



APPENDIX. 

I. — The Character of King Lear. 

THE elements and attributes of Lear are not obscurely furnished. 
He comes before us, at the first, an old man, but not decrepit — 
a man who is beginning to break, but who is not yet broken. 
His aspect is massive, majestic and venerable. He still wears dominion 
in his countenance. He is exceedingly tender in heart and magnani- 
mous in disposition. His age is that of simplicity and goodness ; but 
his mind is blindly suspicious of its own decadence ; and he will prove 
exacting, irrational, fiery, capricious and unpleasant, after the fashion 
of choleric and selfish senility. In the fibre of his character, however, 
— in his essential personality and interior spirit, — he is, above all things 
else, large, spacious, and noble. He is not a common man grown 
old. He must, all his life, have carried the stamp and the magnetic 
allurement and domination of a great and charming nature. He must 
have captured hearts and ruled minds by something beautiful and strong 
in his fate. He does not hold royalty by lineage or by human law alone, 
but by divine endowment. He is born to the purple. He is a mountain 
in the midst of a plain ; and the crumbling of his mind and fortunes is 
like the fall of the avalanche. Vitalized with this immaculate and 
charming excellence, endowed with this innate majesty, and invested 
with this personal grandeur, he becomes the most colossal figure that 
ever was reared in the Pantheon of the human imagination ; and his 
experience, his suffering, his frenzy, his senile insanity, and the 
whirlwind of agony in which he dies, become tremendous and over- 
whelming. It is not old Brabantio, or old Capulet, or even old Shylock, 
who goes mad, under the strokes of unkindness, the wear of age, the 
ravages of tempest, and the human woes and spiritual perplexities of 
life : it is old Lear : 4 and when this awful presence totters, with streaming 
white hair and blazing eye-balls, across the thunder-riven heath, under 
the night and through the storm, he breaks our hearts, not alone with 



106 APPENDIX. 

afflicting sense of the torment into which he has fallen, but of the stately 
yet lovable nobility from which he fell. King Lear is an august and 
splendid personality, and he bears the authentic sceptre of sorrow. We 
see him torn from all moorings and driven out upon the gale-swept 
ocean-wastes of misery ; but it is less for what he suffers than for what 
he is, that we pity, and love, and reverence, and deplore him. The 
highest and best elements of our human nature are felt to be crystallized 
and combined in this woeful, terrific image of shattered royalty ; and so 
his misery comes home to us with a keen personal force. There are 
many denotements of this imperial fascination, which is the pervading 
and characteristic quality of Lear, and which has enthroned him in the 
love of all the world. It is the soul of the character. It links to the 
ruined monarch all the virtues that surround his time and person. It 
holds the heart-strings of the celestial Cordelia. It holds the devotion 
of the wise and honest Kent. Nothing, indeed, can be more significant 
of what Lear is than the passionate fealty of this follower, who "from 
the first of difference and decay" has attended his steps, and who will 
not be left by him, even at the brink of the grave. 

" I have a journey, sir, shortly to go : 

My master calls me — I must not say no." 

W. W. 

II.— Origin, Basis, and Date of King Lear. 

The story of Lear and his daughters was found by Shakespeare in 
Holinshed, and he may have taken a few hints from an old play, "The 
True Chronicle Historie of King Leir." In both Holinshed's version 
and that of the "True Chronicle" the army of Lear and his French 
allies is victorious ; Lear is re-instated in his kingdom ; but Holinshed 
relates how, after Lear's death, her sisters' sons warred against Cordelia 
and took her prisoner, when, "being a woman of a manly courage, and 
despairing to recover liberty," she slew herself. The story is also told 
by Higgins in the "Mirror for Magistrates;" by Spenser (^Faerie 
Queene," II., x. 27-32), from whom Shakespeare adopted the form of 
the name, " Cordelia;" and in a ballad (printed in Percy's "Reliques") 
probably later in date than Shakespeare's play. With the story of Lear 
Shakespeare connects that of Gloster and his two sons. An episode in 
Sir Philip Sidney's "Arcadia" supplied characters and incidents for 
this portion of the play, — Sidney's blind king of Paphlagonia cor- 
responding to the Gloster of Shakespeare. But here] too, the story had, 
in the dramatist's original, a happy ending: the Paphlagonian king is 
restored to his throne and the brothers are reconciled. 



APPENDIX. 107 

The date of Shakespeare's play is probably 1605 or 1606. It was 
entered on the Stationer's register, November 26th, 1607, and the entry 
states that it had been acted "upon St. Stephen's day, at Christmas 
last," i. e. t December 26th, 1606. The play was printed, in quarto, in 
1608. "An upward limit of date is supplied by the publication of 
Harsnet's 'Declaration of Popish Impostures,' 1603, to which Shakes- 
peare was indebted for the names of many of the devils in Edgar's 
speeches." It has been suggested that Gloster's mention of " late eclipses 
of the sun and moon" (Act I., Scene ii. L. 112) refers to the great 
eclipse of the sun, October, 1605, preceded, within a month, by an 
eclipse of the moon, and that the words which follow shortly after the 
mention of eclipse — "machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all 
ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves " — had special point 
if delivered on the stage while the Gunpowder Plot, of November 5th, 
1605, was still fresh in men's minds. * * * The text of the quarto 
differs considerably from that of the folio ; but the opinion that the later 
text — that of the folio — exhibits a revision of his own work by Shakes- 
peare is not supported by sufficient evidence. " The folio was printed 
from an independent manuscript, and its text is, on the whole, much 
superior to that of the quartos. Each, however, supplies passages that 
are wanting in the other." Scene iii. of Act IV. is not found in the 
folio. Edward Dowden. 

III.— The Original Story of King Lear. 

" Leir, the son of Baldud, was admitted ruler over the Britains in the 
year of the world 3105. At what time Joas reigned as yet in Juda. 
This Leir was a prince of noble demeanour, governing his land and sub- 
jects in great wealth. He made the town of Carleir, now called Leicester, 
which standeth upon the river Dore. It is writ that he had, by his wife, 
three daughters, without other issue, whose names were Gonorilla, 
Regan, and Cordilla, which daughters he greatly loved, but especially 
the youngest, Cordilla, far above the two elder. 

" When this Leir had come to great years, and began to wear un- 
wieldy through age, he thought to understand the affections of his 
daughters towards him, and prefer her whom he best loved to the suc- 
cession of the kingdom ; therefore, he first asked Gonorilla, the eldest, 
how well she loved him, the which, calling her gods to record, protested 
that she loved him more than her own life, which by right and reason 
should be most dear unto her ; with which answer the father, being well 
pleased, turned to the second, and demanded of her how well she loved 
him ; which answered (confirming her sayings with oaths) that she loved 



108 APPENDIX. 

him more than tongue can express, and far above all other creatures in 
the world. 

" Then called he his youngest daughter, Cordilla, before him, and 
asked of her what account she made of him ; unto whom she made this 
answer as followeth : • Knowing the great love and fatherly zeal you have 
always borne towards me (for the which, that I may not answer you other- 
wise than I think, and as my conscience leadeth me), I protest to you 
that I have always loved you, and shall continually, while I live, love you 
as my natural father ; and if you would more understand of the love 
that I bear you, ascertain yourself, that so much as you have, so much 
you are worth, and so much I love you, and no more.' 

" The father, nothing content with this answer, married the two eldest 
daughters, the one unto the Duke of Cornwall, named Henninus, and 
the other unto the Duke of Albania, called Maglanus ; and betwixt 
them, after his death, he willed and ordained his land should be divided, 
and the one-half thereof should be immediately assigned unto them in 
hand ; but for the third daughter, Cordilla, he reserved nothing. 

"Yet it fortuned that one of the princes of Gallia (which now is 
called France), whose name was Aganippus, hearing of the beauty, 
womanhood, and good conditions of the said Cordilla, desired to have 
her in marriage, and sent over to her father, requiring that he might have 
her to wife ; to whom answer was made, that he might have his daugh- 
ter, but for any dowry he could have none, for all was promised and 
assured to her other sisters already. 

" Aganippus, notwithstanding this answer of denial to receive anything 
by way of dower with Cordilla, took her to wife, only moved thereto (I 
say) for respect of her person and amiable virtues. This Aganippus 
was one of the twelve kings that ruled Gallia in those days, as in the 
British history it is recorded. But to proceed : after that Leir was fallen 
into age, the two dukes that had married his two eldest daughters, think- 
ing it long ere the government of the land did come to their hands, arose 
against him in armour, and reft from him the governance of the land, 
upon conditions to be continued for term of life ; by the which he was 
put to his portion ; that is, to live after a rate assigned to him for the 
maintainance of his estate, which in process of time was diminished, as 
well by Maglanus as by Henninus. 

" But the greatest grief that Leir took was to see the unkindness of his 
daughters, who seemed to think that all was too much which their father 
had, the same being never so little ; in so much that, going from one to 
the other, he was brought to that misery that they would allow him only 
one servant to wait upon him. In the end, such was the unkindness, or, 



APPENDIX. IO9 

as I may say, the unnaturalness, which he found in his two daughters, 
notwithstanding their fair and pleasant words uttered in time past, that, 
being constrained of necessity, he fled the land, and sailed into Gallia, 
there to seek some comfort of his youngest daughter, Cordilla, whom 
before he hated. 

" The lady Cordilla, hearing he was arrived, in poor estate, she first sent 
to him privately a sum of money, to apparel himself withal, and to retain 
a certain number of servants, that might attend upon him in honourable 
wise, as apperteyned to the estate which he had borne. And then, so 
accompanyed, she appointed him to come to the court, which he did, and 
was so joyfully, honourably and lovingly received, both by his son-in- 
law, Aganippus, and also by his daughter Cordilla, that his heart was 
greatly comforted ; for he was no less honoured than if he had been king 
of the whole country himself. Also, after that he had informed his son- 
in-law and his daughter in what sort he had been used by his other 
daughters, Aganippus caused a mighty army to be put in readiness, and 
likewise a great navy of ships to be rigged, to pass over into Britain, 
with Leir, his father-in-law, to see him again restored to his kingdom. 

11 It was accorded that Cordilla should also go with him to take posses- 
sion of the land, the which he promised to leave unto her, as his rightful 
inheritor after his decease, notwithstanding any former grants made unto 
her sisters, or unto their husbands, in any manner of wise. Hereupon, 
when this army and navy of ships were ready, Leir and his daughter 
Cordilla, with her husband, took the sea, and arriving in Britain fought 
with their enemies, and discomfited them in battle, in the which Mag- 
lanus and Henninus were slain, and then was Leir restored to his king- 
dom, which he ruled after this by the space of two years, and then died, 
forty years after he first began to reign. His body was buried at Leices- 
ter, in a vault under the channel of the river Dore, beneath the town." 

Holinshed's Chronicle. 

IV. — The Idea and Substance of King Lear. 

1 ' The modern practice of blending comedy with tragedy, though liable 
to great abuse in point of practice, is undoubtedly an extension of the 
dramatic circle ; but the comedy should be, as in ' King Lear, ' uni- 
versal, ideal, and sublime. It is, perhaps, the intervention of this prin- 
ciple which determines the balance in favour of ' King Lear ' against the 
' CEdipus Tyrannus,' or the ' Agamemnon,' or, if you will, the Trilogies 
with which they are connected ; unless the intense power of the choral 
poetry, especially that of the latter, should be considered as restoring the 



110 APPENDIX. 

equilibrium. 'King Lear,' if it can sustain that comparison, may be 
judged to be the most perfect specimen of the dramatic art existing in the 
world." Shelley. 

"We must never forget that unity, in Shakespeare's view, consists in 
one dominant idea, which, reproducing itself under various forms, 
incessantly produces, continues, and redoubles the same impression. 
Thus, as in 'Macbeth,' the poet displays man in conflict with the 
passions of crime, so in ' King Lear ' he depicts him in conflict with 
misfortune, the action of which is modified according to the different 
characters of the individuals who experience it." Guizot. 



" The artful involution of distinct interests, the striking opposition of 
contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and the quick 
succession of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, 
pity, and hope. There is no scene which does not contribute to the 
aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action ; and scarce a line 
which does not conduce to the progress of the scene." 

Dr. Johnson. 

"The deeper our study of Shakespeare the more we are impressed 
with the extent to which his pathos is independent of condition and 
common to humanity : not independent of condition, in reference to his 
dramatic purpose and effect ; but independent of condition, in reference 
to the essence of the suffering. If Lear had never been a king, the 
man, without a shred of royal robes, is all-sufficient to account for the 
madness of the father." Henry Giles. 

"Lear combines length with rapidity — like the hurricane and the 
whirlpool, absorbing while it advances. It begins as a stormy day in 
summer, with brightness ; but that brightness is lurid, and anticipates 
the tempest. It was not without forethought, nor is it without its due 
significance, that the division of Lear's kingdom is, in the first lines 
of the play, stated as a thing already determined, in all its particulars, 
previously to the trial of professions as the relative rewards of which the 
daughters were to be made to consider their several portions. The 
strange, yet by no means unnatural, mixture, of selfishness, sensibility, 
and habit of feeling derived from and fostered by the particular rank and 
usages of the individual ; the intense desire of being intensely beloved — 



APPENDIX, • III 

selfish and yet characteristic of the selfishness of a loving and kindly- 
nature alone ; the self-supportless leaning, for all pleasure, on another's 
breast ; the craving after sympathy as with a prodigal disinterested- 
ness, frustrated by its own ostentation and the mode and texture of its 
claims ; the anxiety, the distrust, the jealousy, which more or less accom- 
pany all selfish affections, and are amongst the surest contradistinctions of 
mere fondness from pure love, and which originate Lear's eager wish to 
enjoy his daughters' violent professions, whilst the inveterate habits of 
sovereignty convert the wish into claim and positive right, and an incom- 
pliance with it into crime and treason; — these facts, these passions, 
these moral verities, on which the whole tragedy is founded, are all pre- 
pared for, and will, to the retrospect, be implied in the first four or five 
lines of the play. They let us know that the trial is but a trick, and that 
the grossness of the old king's rage is in part the natural result of a 
silly trick suddenly and most unexpectedly baffled and disappointed." 

Coleridge. 

11 Good and evil, in this play, are clearly severed from one another — 
more so than in ' Macbeth ' or in ' Othello ' — and, at the last, goodness, 
it we judge merely by external fortune, would seem to be, if not defeated, 
at least not triumphant. Shakespeare has dared, while paying little 
regard to mere historical verisimilitude, to represent the most solemn 
and awful mysteries of life as they actually are, without attempting to 
offer a ready-made explanation of them. Cordelia dies strangled in 
prison ; yet we know that her devotion of love was not mis-spent. Lear 
expires in an agony of grief; but he has been delivered from his pride 
and passionate wilfulness ; he has found that instead of being a master, 
at whose nod all things must bow, he is weak and helpless, a sport even 
of the wind and the rain ; his ignorance of true love, and pleasure in false 
professions of love, have given place to an agonized clinging to the love 
which is real, deep, and tranquil because of its fullness. Lear is the 
greatest sufferer in Shakespeare's plays. Though so old, he has strength 
which makes him a subject for prolonged and vast agony ; and patience 
is unknown to him. The elements seem to have conspired against him 
with his unnatural daughters ; the upheaval of the moral world and the 
rage of the tempest in the air seem to be parts of the same gigantic con- 
vulsion. In the midst of this tempest wanders unhoused the white- 
haired Lear ; while his Fool — most pathetic of all the minor characters 
of Shakespeare — jests, half-wildly, half-coherently, half-bitterly, half-ten- 
derly, and always with a sad remembrance of the happier past. The 
poor boy's heart has been sore, ever since his ' young mistress went to 



112 APPENDIX. 

France.' * * * * Everywhere throughout the play Shakespeare's 
imaginative daring impresses us. Nothing in poetry is bolder or more 
wonderful than the scene on the night of the tempest, in the hovel where 
the king, whose intellect has now given way, is in company with Edgar, 
assuming madness, the Fool, with his forced and pathetic mirth, and 
Kent." Edward Dowden. 



■ ' The story of Lear and his daughters was left by Shakespeare exactly 
as he found it in a fabulous tradition, with all the features characteristical 
of the simplicity of old times. But, in that tradition there is not the 
slightest trace of the story of Gloster and his sons, which was derived by 
Shakespeare from another source. The incorporation of the two stories 
has been censured as destructive of the unity of action. But, whatever 
contributes to the intrigue or the denouement must always possess unity : 
and with what ingenuity and skill are the two main parts of the composi- 
tion dove-tailed into one another ! The pity felt by Gloster for the fate 
of Lear becomes the means which enables his son Edmund to effect his 
complete destruction, and affords the outcast Edgar an opportunity of 
being the saviour of his father. On the other hand, Edmund is active in 
the cause of Regan and Goneril : and the criminal passion which they 
both entertain for him induces them to execute justice on each other 
and themselves. The laws of the drama have, therefore, been suffi- 
ciently complied with ; but that is the least : it is the very combination 
which constitutes the sublime beauty of the work." * * 

" Of Cordelia's heavenly beauty of soul, painted in so few words, I 
will not venture to speak. She can only be named in the same breath 
with Antigone. Her death has been thought too cruel ; and in England 
the piece is, in acting, so far altered that she remains victorious and 
happy. I must own I cannot conceive what ideas of art and dramatic 
connection those persons have who suppose that we can at pleasure 
tack a double conclusion to a tragedy : a melancholy one for hard- 
hearted spectators, and a happy one for souls of a softer mould. After 
surviving so many sufferings Lear can only die; and what more truly 
tragic ending for him than to die from grief for the death of Cordelia ? 
And, if he is also to be saved and to pass the remainder of his days in 
happiness, the whole loses its signification. According to Shakes- 
peare's plan, the guilty, it is true, are punished, for wickedness destroys 
itself ; but the virtues that would bring help and succour are everywhere 
too late, or overmatched by the cunning activity of malice. The persons 
of this drama have only such a faint belief in Providence as heathens may 






APPENDIX. 113 

be supposed to have ; and the .poet here wishes to show us that this 
belief requires a wider range than the dark pilgrimage on earth, to be 
established in full extent." Schlegel. 



" The Fool is no comic buffoon, to make the groundlings laugh, no 
forced condescension of Shakespeare's genius to the taste of his audience. 
Accordingly, the poet prepares for his introduction, which he never does 
with any of his common clowns and fools, by bringing him into living 
connection with the pathos of the play. He is as wonderful a creation 
as Caliban : his wild babblings and inspired idiocy articulate and gauge 
the horrors of the scene." Coleridge. 



11 True love and fidelity are no more to be estranged by ill than false- 
hood and hollow-heartedness can be conciliated by good usage." 

Charles Lamb. 



11 Most actors, — Garrick, Kemble, and Kean, among others, — seem 
to have based their conception of the character of King Lear on the 
infirmity usually associated with 'four-score and upwards,' and have 
represented the feebleness instead of the vigour of old age. But Lear's 
was, in truth, 'a lusty winter :' his language never betrays imbecility 
of mind or body. He confers his kingdom, indeed, on ' younger 
strengths;' but there is still sufficient invigorating him to allow him to 
ride, to hunt, to run wildly through the fury of the storm, to slay the ruf- 
fian who murdered his Cordelia, and to bear about her dead body in his 
arms. There is, moreover, a heartiness, and even jollity, in his blither 
moments, no way akin to the helplessness of senility. Indeed, the tow- 
ering range of thought with which his mind dilates, — identifying the 
heavens themselves with his grief, — and the power of conceiving such 
vast imaginings would seem incompatible with a tottering, trembling 
frame, and betoken, rather, one of 'mighty bone and bold emprise,' in 
the outward bearing of the grand old man." Macready. 



V.— Ulrici's Thoughts on King Lear. 

" To understand the organic coherence of the whole — to discover the 
intrinsic necessity of the tragic development in all its moments — to find 
the fundamental idea — the living centre, as it were, around which the 
14 



114 APPENDIX. 

several parts revolve, and thereby adjust themselves into a whole — all 
this requires profundity of view and a firm, assthetical basis of criticism. 

4 ' In the present piece the ground idea of the whole is reflected in all the 
subordinate parts, more clearly than in any other of Shakespeare's 
dramas : for the tie between parent and child, which in a high historical 
sense forms here the basis of the tragic sentiment, has for its foundation 
wedlock, and the religious sanction of the intercourse of the sexes. 
Accordingly, strong rays of light are thrown off from this central idea 
upon both these civilizing influences of human life. 

" In ' King Lear ' parental affection and fi Hal reverence are contemplated 
as the focus towards which all the ties of life converge, and the family — 
in its largest and historical import — is the particular grade of life in 
which the poet has here taken up his position within the domain of 
poetry. 

" Lear, ' in every inch a king,' had accustomed himself to the thought 
of, and set his heart on, being the unlimited master of the world; 
although in boundless love he gives his kingdom away, it is still his 
sovereign pleasure to measure even affection by his own arbitrary will, 
and he would lord even over it. Even when he has overthrown this 
visionary empire by his own folly, he must still command; he fights 
against the very elements, he is determined to be at least the master of 
his own sufferings and his own destiny. But for this the necessary 
powers fail him ; and consequently the general disorder of all the moral 
relations of life terminates in madness. It was only by such an affliction 
that a character like his could be brought to repentance ; and by such 
means alone could the propitiatory element of tragedy be manifested in 
his case. It was not until his kingly spirit, his haughty virtue, his 
energy and sovereignty of will, had been utterly overthrown, that he 
could be brought to the humility which is the parent of true love, and 
that love in him could be purified. 

" Lear is depicted as the head not only of a family, but also of the state 
— as the ruler of a great nation. The more seriously, therefore, and the 
more directly his domestic circumstances influence the destinies of a 
whole people, the more clearly does the importance of the family bond 
appear. The tragedy sets before us the public fortunes of a great nation 
in the first instance, and ultimately the history of the whole world, as 
affected by the morality or immorality of private life, and it becomes, 
consequently, not merely in its ideal subject-matter, but also by the 
course taken by the represented fable, a mirror of history in general. 

"Lear's stronger and bolder spirit makes head against external troubles ; 
he struggles against the fury of the elements as against the wickedness 



APPENDIX. I15 

of man. It is only from within that he can be conquered ; in the violent 
convulsive effort to master the deep emotions of his heart, the bonds of 
reason snap asunder, and madness spreads its nightly, veiling darkness 
over him. 

"As the family tie — the first and absolutely indispensable foundation of 
all moral and intellectual development has been irremediably broken, 
and thereby the whole of human existence completely unsettled, being 
let loose from its primary source and reality in God ; this convulsion and 
the extreme enormity of sin must be exhibited both internally and 
externally. Its external and objective manifestation is in the disruption 
of all human relations, and in the fruitless struggle of good against evil ; 
inwardly and subjectively it attains its climax in the disorganization of 
the King's mind, whose personality formed the subjective centre of the 
whole piece. 

" The high mid-day sun has now sunk into the fresh, glowing, but fast 
fading tints of evening. The old Lear is still vigorous both in mind and 
body ; his old age has not tempered the faults of his nature ; his 
obstinacy, love of power, passion and rashness, are as strong as ever ; 
his heart still retains all its freshness and impetuosity. The rich measure 
of love which has fallen to the portion of Lear's heart is blindly lavished 
by him to the last drops upon his children ; he resigns to them his all, in 
the hope of finding in their love and gratitude repose from the storms 
and fatigues of his long life. But the affection of Lear leads him to 
forget the king in the parent, and in a father's care to overlook all other 
duties. Its first thought is of the external and terrestrial, not the inward 
and everlasting, welfare of his children. As it has not its root in the divine 
truth, it consequently mistakes its true nature, and, refusing the genuine 
return of deep and silent gratitude, accepts in the stead a worthless 
counterfeit. Such a false, and in fact immoral love of the parent, is, by 
an intrinsic necessity, closely followed by the perfidy, ingratitude, and 
guilt of the children. True family love can only exist in the calm, 
unconscious, disinterested union of hearts in which outward and inward, 
objective and subjective, are so perfectly blended into one, that no 
outward sanction, no notions of right and duty, reward or recompense, 
are ever pressed into consideration. Accordingly, we must look upon 
Lear himself as the prime cause of the tragic complication, and the 
guilty author of his own fate, no less than of the crimes and sufferings of 
his daughters. He falls the victim of the errors and weakness of his own 
affectionate heart. Thus invariably does the lovely and noble of this 
earth hasten to perdition whenever unpurified and earthly : it neglects 
to look back to its divine origin for its true strength and support. 



Il6 '. APPENDIX. 

"As Shakespeare everywhere exhibits the most wonderful power in 
completely exhausting the particular subject he has in hand, so, in the 
present piece, he is not content with simply exhibiting the fundamental 
idea in the fortunes of the King and his family. He sets it forth under 
another aspect. 

" In order to shew that a moral corruption is never solitary, but is in its 
seed and principle universal and ultimately resting on the sinfulness of 
the whole human race, he has taken the noblest families as representa- 
tives of the great family of man, and made them the victims of the 
moral pestilence. While a passionate, unreal tenderness avenges itself 
on Lear, the fate of Gloster is the consequence of unrepented juvenile 
excess, on which (as shewn in the first scene) the old man still reflects 
with wanton pleasure. For the stain of his birth the bastard Edmund 
punishes his father, who is as credulous and superstitious in his old age 
as he was light-hearted and thoughtless in youth. While in the one case 
the open folly of the parent is answered by the open and shameless 
crimes of the children, in the other, secret sins are met by hidden and 
sanctified enormity. In the former case the family tie is broken, together 
with the false and rickety foundation on which it rested ; in the latter it 
is annihilated by the retributive poison of a single sin, which from the ' 
first had eaten away the only stay of domestic happiness — true purity of 
heart. 

"It was necessary to portray Lear and Gloster as infinitely more sinned 
against than sinning, in order thereby to point out how sins, such as 
those of which they were the first cause, spring up like weeds, from 
small beginnings to an unforeseen magnitude, until they cover the whole 
soil, and absorb its most precious juices. That their baneful influence 
should have been stronger on the female mind than on that of man — for 
Edmund, however guilty, has some palliation to plead in the dishonour 
of his origin — is but founded on the truth of nature. Since the vocation 
of woman is domestic life, from which both her character and feelings 
take their tone, whenever this is corrupt and her sole stay undermined, 
woman necessarily falls lower than man, who, by his very nature, is 
thrown more upon himself, and placed on a wider basis of existence. 

"Cordelia pays the penalty of the fault she committed, when, instead of 
affectionately humouring the weakness of her aged father, she met him 
with unfilial frowardness, and answered his, no doubt, foolish questions 
with unbecoming harshness and asperity ; a father's curse lights upon 
her head, and its direful consequences cannot afterwards be avoided. 
The slighter her failing may appear, the deeper is the tragic effect of its 
heavy penalty. For the true force of the tragic lies exactly in this, that 



APPENDIX. 117 

the trivial faults of the good are overwhelmed in the same ruin as the 
most revolting offences of the bad ; with this difference, however, that 
whereas to the former purification and atonement (and consequently true 
life also) is conveyed in its annihilation, to the latter temporary destruc- 
tion and punishment bring likewise eternal death. 

"All the profound though tfulness on which the tragic view of the 
world ultimately rests, lies hidden in the deep meditative humour of 
the Fool, against which the tragic form of art is, as it were, broken, in 
order to display more clearly its inmost core. This genuine humour of 
the Fool plays, as it were, with the tragical; to it pain or pleasure, 
happiness or misery, are all the same ; it makes a sport of the most 
heart-rending sufferings and misfortunes of earthly existence ; even from 
death and destruction it can derive amusement. By these qualities he is 
raised high above this earthly existence ; and he has already attained to 
that elevation of the human mind above all the pursuits or sorrows of this 
earthly life, which it is the end of this tragic art to set forth, and which 
is, as it were, personified in him. The humour itself is, in its very 
essence, the sublime of Comic. Although fully conscious of all the grave 
seriousness and responsibilities of life, in its profoundest depths, he yet 
pursues, even with this profundity and seriousness, his sportive mockery, 
and has no misgivings even, because he is raised far above this earth and 
its interests. To one who looks upon the whole of life as nothing, his 
outward position in it must be immaterial. Accordingly, the Fool 
departs from this life with a witticism in his mouth — ' He '11 go to bed at 
noon.' But his sublime elevation is not a mere stoical indifference; it 
is united with the truest love and fidelity, and the most rare sympathy. 
His heartfelt sorrow for his dear Cordelia and his beloved King has 
sapped his life. 

" Lear's madness, too, terminates with his mortal sigh for Cordelia's 
loss. In this moment of anguish all the rich intensity of love, which sat 
enthroned in the heart of Lear, has found its worthy object. While the 
faint sparks of life are extinguishing, his love puts off its last earthly 
weakness, and ascends purified and refined to heaven. The tragic 
impression loses its crushing and oppressive horror, and is transmuted 
into the calm consolatory feeling of a gentle death and a blissful peace." 

VI.— The Madness of King Lear. 

"It is on the development of insanity, the gradual loosening of the 
mind from the props and supports of reason and of fact, the gradual 
transition of the feelings from their old habitudes and relations to morbid 



Il8 APPENDIX. 

and perverted excess, the gradual exaggeration of some feelings and the 
extinction of others, and the utter loss- of mental balance resulting there- 
from ; it is on this passage from the state of man, when reason is on its 
throne, to a state when the royal insignia of his pre-eminence among 
God's creatures are defaced, that the great dramatist loves to dwell. 
The wilfulness with which critics have refused to see the symptoms of 
insanity in Lear until the reasoning power itself has become undeniably 
alienated, is founded upon the view of mental disease which has, until 
recently, been entertained even by physicians, and which is still main- 
tained in courts of law, namely, that insanity is an affection of the intel- 
lectual and not of the emotional part of man's nature. * * * No state 
of the reasoning faculty can, by itself, be the cause or condition of mad- 
ness ; congenital idiocy and acquired dementia being alone excepted. 
The intellectual and excited babbling of the Fool and the exaggerated 
absurdities of Edgar are stated by Ulrici, and other critics, to exert a 
bad influence upon the king's mind. To persons unacquainted with the 
character of the insane, this opinion must seem, at least, to be highly 
probable, notwithstanding that the evidence of the drama itself is against 
it ; for Lear is comparatively tranquil in conduct and language during 
the whole period of Edgar's mad companionship. * 
The singular and undoubted fact was probably unknown to Ulrici, that 
few things tranquilize the insane more than the companionship of the 
insane. It is a fact not easily explicable, but it is one of which, either 
by the intuition of genius, or by the information of experience, Shakes- 
peare appears to be aware." Bucknill. 



" In the anger and agony of Lear ; in the muscular insanity with which 
he tries to grapple with fate,, as if to catch it by the throat, and strangle 
it in mortal fight ; in his measuring his passions with elemental forces ; 
looking for sympathy with his age to the olden heavens, and finding in 
the hurricane but inadequate resemblance to the malignity of his 
daughters; — in all this we have no incidental ebullition: we have, in 
condensation, the wholeness of a life, the entireness of a self-willed, self- 
indulgent, impulsive mind, wrenched from all that kept it stable, and 
whirled into darkness, amidst tempest and convulsion — the turbulence 
and fury of a most physical and most impassioned nature. It is thus 
that Shakespeare constantly shows us the radical nature of a man in his 
supreme trial, even in the wildness and terrors of insanity." 

Henry Giles. 



APPENDIX. 119 

11 Edgar's assumed madness serves the great purpose of taking off 
part of the shock which would otherwise be caused by the true madness 
of Lear, and further displays the profound difference between the two. 
In every attempt at representing madness, throughout the whole range 
of dramatic literature, with the single exception of Lear, it is mere light- 
headedness, as especially in Otway. In Edgar's ravings, Shakespeare 
all the while lets you see a fixed purpose, a practical end in view. In 
Lear's there is only the brooding of the one anguish, an eddy without 
progression." Coleridge. 

VII.— The Dressing, etc., of King Lear. 

Guizot remarks that : " The time in which Shakespeare laid his action 
seems to have emancipated him from.all conventional forms ; and just as 
he felt no difficulty in placing a King of France, a Duke of Albany, and 
a Duke of Cornwall eight hundred years [and more] before the Christian 
era, so he felt no necessity for connecting the language and the charac- 
ters of his drama with any determinate period." And Dr. Johnson says, 
in a kindred vein, that : " Shakespeare, by the mention of his earls and 
dukes [in this tragedy], has given us the idea of times more civilized and 
of life regulated by softer manners." — These views indicate the usage 
proper to be followed in mounting and dressing " King Lear." The 
Britons of A. M. 3105 probably wore skins — principally their own. The 
tragedy should be dressed according to the civilization of a much later 
period, with rude fabrics, but with some pomp and richness. The time 
of the action of this tragedy cannot be determined with absolute precision. 
Immediately after the partition of the kingdom is accomplished, Lear 
departs to the castle of Goneril. The first quarrel occurs before the 
close of the first month — apparently — of his residence in that place. 
There is nothing, however, to make it certain that this breach should 
not be referred to a later time — the third month or the fifth. It is here 
assumed, however, to occur in the first. Then comes the quarrel with 
Regan, which the text distinctly places within two days after the quarrel 
with Goneril. The incidents of the night and tempest, upon the heath, 
immediately follow. Three acts of the piece are thus comprised within 
less than a month. It seems sufficient to allow about three weeks for 
the military proceedings which bring on the final catastrophe. The 
scrupulous analyst of the text obtains many side lights upon points of this 
class : such as Lear's reference to his dead wife, and Regan's remem- 
brance that Edgar, when an infant, received his name from Lear. 

New-York, March 30th, 1878. W. W. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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